


Beneath the Stars

by BellatrixLives



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 70,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellatrixLives/pseuds/BellatrixLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*BOTFA Spoilers* After her terrible loss in The Battle of the Five Armies, Tauriel struggles to cope with her seemingly pointless existence. She finds herself in a downward spiral, losing control of everything, when she finds help in the most unlikely of places. Her King. </p>
<p>[Tauriel/Thranduil] M for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This fic is based solely off my knowledge from the movies, I have not read the books. Well, I read the Hobbit years ago, but that hardly counts any more. I have used the LOTR Wikia to research some of the lore I'm using, but don't count on 100% accuracy. This is fanfiction after all.

* * *

The world once so bright, vibrant, and  _alive_  has slipped away.

Meaning is lost.

Tauriel clings to Kili's lifeless form, wondering how she is still breathing when it feels as if her heart has been shattered, and her soul ripped from her body.

Tears stream down her cheeks, falling to land on her lost love's face.

She hears footsteps approaching and looks up, half hoping to find an Orc warrior standing over her, with a blade drawn.

_It would hurt less._

Instead, Tauriel is staring into the piercing eyes of her King.

"They want to bury him?" she asks quietly.

"Yes."

The ache in her chest grows, though she does not understand how that is possible, at the thought of Kili locked away in a darkened tomb.

"If this is love I do not want it," she says. "Take it from me, please!"

Something shifts in his eyes but he says nothing.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Tauriel begs, her eyes pleading for understanding.

Thranduil steps forward, studying the pair on the ground before him.

"Because it was real," he says finally.

Tauriel closes her eyes and drops her head. Just an hour earlier all she wanted was for her feelings to be acknowledged as true, but that acknowledgement has come too late and does nothing to ease her grief.

The funeral ceremony takes place deep in the caverns of Erebor. Three identical stone slabs sit side by side, each supporting one of the fallen.

Thorin is in the middle, with Fili and Kili on either side.

Tauriel stands back in the shadows, watching. She hopes that when the three are laid to rest in the tombs of their ancestors, Kili will be beside his brother. It's what he would have wanted.

Her eyes burn but no tears fall while the last rites are read. It's too painful to continue looking at Kili, and Tauriel instead scans the hall. The room is filled with dwarves lining the upper balconies and walkways, all wishing to pay respect to the King Under the Mountain and the fall of the Durin line.

Her gaze pauses on the rest of Thorin's company, standing not far from the stone pedestals holding their friends. Two are looking in her direction, watching her.

They are the ones who were present in Lake-town when she saved Kili's life from the Orc's poisoned arrow. They bow their head in her direction and, after a slight hesitation, she returns the gesture, wondering if they understand how deeply she feels this loss.

The Arkenstone is returned to the dwarves, and buried with Thorin, where it's power can longer corrupt.

When the ceremony ends Tauriel slips away, not wishing to make small talk.

She doesn't know where she is headed now that she is banished. She wonders if she should try to find Legolas, but almost immediately dismisses the idea. Tauriel suspects he left because of her.

It had long been evident Legolas cared for her; she just never realized how deeply that was. It was probably for the best they separate.

Reaching the front gate of Erebor, Tauriel steps outside and takes a deep swelling breath.

_Perhaps I can see a fire moon,_  she thinks sadly.

Suddenly she finds herself surrounded by guards.  _Mirkwood_ guards. One steps forward.

"Have you finished paying your respects to the fallen?" he asks.

"I have," she replies, voice raw and unsure.

"You are to come with us."

"But I—" she protests.

"By order of the King."

Tauriel's back straightens automatically and she is about to argue when realization hits her.

_I am being arrested._

Cursing herself silently, Tauriel can't believe she didn't see this coming.

_I drew my bow and aimed an arrow at my King's face… in front of the company he was commanding. An action such as this cannot be ignored._

She knows she could fight and get away from the four guards standing before her, but she chooses to instead go quietly.

"If my King commands," she says, bowing her head.

There has been enough blood shed today, and there is nothing waiting for her anyway. She may as well suffer for her crimes. At least it will be a different sort of pain to the one crackling through her body now.

Tauriel bows her head and falls into line with the guards.

They don't speak as they travel, at least, not to her. The four  _do_ speak to each other, recounting tales from the battle.

No shackles are placed on her wrists, nor do they ask for her dagger, but her jailers shoot her furtive looks when they think she won't see them.

Their expressions are accusing, though of what she is not entirely certain. Are they more upset she threatened their King, or that she dare fall in love with a dwarf?

_It doesn't matter,_ she decides.  _Nothing matters._

It takes them two days to reach the edge of the Mirkwood forest. One of the guards finally speaks to Tauriel, informing her they will travel close to the river, as the battle agitated the spiders and they have been seen in greater numbers. She nods once, but says nothing.

The sun dips low behind the trees and Tauriel briefly wonders if she'll see it again, or if she will be locked away in the dungeons, forced to live eternity in the darkness. She doesn't give it much thought, instead using all of her will power just to force one foot in front of the other.

The attack comes out of nowhere. One moment she is staring at the ground chanting " _left, right, left, right"_ in her head, and the next she is flying backwards, landing hard on her back staring at an enormous spider as it approaches.

It's pincers clack loudly and she sees its fangs glistening. Tauriel wonders if it will be quick.

It is quick… for the spider.

One of the guards leaps onto the beast's back and drives a sword downward through the top of its head. The creature squeals and shudders before collapsing inches from Tauriel's feet.

"You're welcome," the guard tells her, pulling his weapon free.

"For what?" she mumbles under her breath, pushing herself to her feet.

The tiny flare of relief that blossomed in her chest at the sight of the spider is extinguished and they continue on their journey back to the palace.

The guards at the great gate salute her when they enter and she wonders how long it will take for word of her betrayal to circulate.

Once inside the palace halls Tauriel turns in the direction of the cells, but one of the guards, the one who saved her, catches her wrist.

"Captain," he says, and then nods his head in the other direction.

They lead her up further and further until she understands where they are going.

Tauriel is escorted to her bedchambers without another word being spoken. Three of the guards depart from there, just her  _savior_ staying behind. She says nothing to him, entering her room and closing the door behind her.

_So I am to stay here until my trial_.

Tauriel sighs deeply. This space, which once held so much comfort, now seems too large, empty, and quiet.

Only two things in the room currently speak to her, her bed, and the bottle of Dorwinion wine sitting on her desk.

Opening the bottle she takes the entire thing to bed with her, ignoring the silver goblet beside it.

_The King will probably have a hangover for my trial, why shouldn't I?_


	2. Aftermath

The next morning comes and goes, all with Tauriel sleeping off her bottle of wine uninterrupted. When she finally wakes, the light streaming in her room tells her it is late afternoon.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and stretches her aching muscles.

Pain comes flooding back with the memories of all she's lost and she finds herself wishing she were still asleep.

Eyeing her nightstand, Tauriel sighs at the empty bottled laying on its side.

Forcing herself to move, she crosses to the door and peeks outside. A guard is standing to the left of her door, different from the ones who traveled with her.

Her sudden appearance startles him, but he comes to attention quickly.

"Is there something you need, Captain?" he asks.

"N— actually, yes," she says, deciding to test her luck. "I require more wine."

The guard does not reply and Tauriel slinks back into her room, knowing it was a long shot.

Despite the waning sun, the room feels far too bright.

_How does the world carry on when mine has ended?_  She wonders bitterly, storming around the room and drawing all of the curtains closed.

_Will this pain fade? Or will I feel like this the rest of my immortal life?_

Panic seizes her and her heart thuds painfully against her ribs.

Tauriel slumps onto the edge of her bed, hand clutching her chest, and tries to calm her ragged breathing.

_Kili._

The tears come once more, streaking down her face, silent but for her labored breath.

_It is my fault. If you hadn't tried to save me…_

There is a knock on her door, and before Tauriel can summon the words to order them gone, a servant enters carrying a large platter.

"Your dinner, Captain," the maid says, giving her a concerned glance as she sets the tray on the desk.

Unable to speak, Tauriel gestures the young woman away, refusing to meet her eyes as the maid leaves.

_Why have I not yet been summoned?_

She cannot fathom why she is being left in her rooms to await punishment. Not that she is eager to be punished, but to feel anything aside from what she feels now will be a relief.

_Perhaps that is why I have not been summoned. My King knows I am suffering. Or perhaps he is just trying to be dramatic by keeping me in suspense._

Another thought occurs to her, that maybe he is tied up in tending to their dead and wounded, and a trial for a disobedient captain of the guard is not a high priority.

Whatever the reason, she decides she does not care. Especially once she spots the new bottle of wine on her dinner tray.

Completely ignoring the food, and once again a glass, Tauriel grabs the new bottle of wine and returns to bed.

She sits with her back pressed to the headboard, blankets piled around her in a cocoon, and watches as her room slips into blackness, pulling her with it.

X

War is a messy business… and a tragic one.

Thranduil finds himself almost drowning in all of his duties in the weeks following the battle. One hundred and thirty-seven members of his army perished in the fight.

_One hundred and thirty-seven,_ he thinks, his stomach rolling.

Men and dwarves scoff, thinking one hundred and thirty-seven casualties out of the two thousand troops he sent to fight is a victory.

_Of course they would. Those who are born with the axe named 'mortality' over their head do not think twice of those who perish in battle for a_ just  _cause._

Thranduil cannot stop thinking of those he lost, though. Each of their names are forever burned into his memory. How could he forget any of those he doomed to a death they otherwise would never have seen?

_One hundred and thirty-seven immortal souls now extinguished, and all under my watch… for a handful of jewels._

In addition to the sorrow he feels for those lost, Thranduil also feels guilt. Guilt because he is still grateful for what was finally accomplished.

His hand slips into the inner pocket of his robe and he traces his fingers across his prize. Stroking the jewels as if they were a talisman, which, in a way they are.

It has been a long day of sorting out funerary details for those lost, and he is grateful to have a moment's peace. While his soldiers have already been laid to rest, there is work going into erecting a monument in their honor and he is having a difficult time settling the final details.

He lounges in his council room, closes his eyes, and imagines slipping away for a ride in the moonlight. The image doesn't last long; both due to the sad memory of his elk, Linor, being lost, and the footsteps he hears echoing down the stairs.

"Yes?" he asks, voice cool and weary.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry to trouble you," one of his aides begins.

Thranduil sighs and opens his eyes, staring at the unusually short elf before him.

"What is it, Nimmon?"

Flustered at hearing his name spoken so dismissively, the elf rushes to speak, not wishing to impose longer than necessary.

"It is Tauriel, your Majesty. I did not wish to burden you, but her maid informs me she has not eaten since her return to the palace. All of her trays are left untouched," he explains. "We… don't know what to do."

Thranduil's head cocks to the side and his expression grows cold.

"She has not eaten in  _two weeks_  and you just now bring me this information?"

"I—I'm sorry, your Majesty. We didn't— didn't think—"

"No, you did not."

Thranduil rises from his seat and strides past the aide.

"I will handle the situation from here, as it is apparently beyond you," he says. Then as an afterthought, "send Tauriel's maid to her chambers.

Priding himself for knowing his castle inside and out, Thranduil heads straight to Tauriel's room, despite never having actually been there. Several servants stumble and bow, surprised to see him in this part of the palace, but he ignores them.

There is a guard standing outside her door, just as he'd instructed. While no doubt surprised to see the King, the guard hides her surprise well and comes to attention at his approach.

Thranduil juts his chin at the door and the guard immediately opens it, not bothering to knock. The King does not need to knock.

When he enters, his nose crinkles. The air is thick with the smell of sweat and sickness. The curtains and windows are closed, and there is no light in the room.

Purposefully he marches across the room and tears the blinds open, filling the room with the light of the setting sun.

There is a groan from the bed and the clink of bottles as the mattress shifts.

"I said keep them closed," a voice mumbles from under a mound of blankets.

"Tauriel, rise," Thranduil commands, approaching the edge of her bed.

She pops straight up in bed, her hair wild and matted, and tries to focus her eyes on him in the unfamiliar light.

"M—My King," she stammers, flinging the blankets back.

She tosses her legs over the side of the bed and sends two wine bottles crashing to the floor. Thranduil eyes them with distaste. When Tauriel tries to stand she must grow dizzy, for she topples forward catching herself by grabbing onto Thranduil's arm.

She lets go as if burned and tries to right herself, swaying dangerously.

"Forgive me," she murmurs, eyes still unfocused.

He studies her, taking in her haggard appearance. It's clear she has not bathed since her return, and her starvation is becoming evident as well. Her high cheekbones are more pronounced than ever, and her eyes are sunken and bloodshot.

"I have come to invite you to dine with me this evening," he says walking to the end of the bed once he's certain she will not fall again.

She blinks slowly, trying to form a coherent reply.

"While I do appreciate—" she begins, but he cuts her off.

"When I said 'invite' I was being unclear. This is not a request."

"I— yes, my King."

Thranduil turns on heel and strides out of the room, passing Tauriel's maid as he does so.

"Make sure she is bathed, and appropriately dressed," he tells the woman, and then continues on his way.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First of all, wow! I have to say, considering how little I can find of this pairing I am surprised by the warm reception I've received so far, thank you. All of your reviews are greatly appreciated. I love knowing there are others actively shipping these two. Second, not all chapters will be this short, I was just eager to post another one! You can expect updates at least once a week on this fic, but honestly I am loving writing it so much it could be more often.

On another note, I like to practice my (beginner) photoshop skills by making graphics for my ships. If you are interested I made a Tauriel/Thranduil wallpaper today, and you can find it [here](http://allons-ymrholmes.deviantart.com/art/Tauriel-x-Thranduil-502135241).


	3. Dine With Me

Tauriel watches as the King leaves, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying to clear the fog clouding them. Her knees wobble and she holds on to her bedpost to keep her on her feet.

Her maid comes in right as the King exits, and gives Tauriel an appraising look.

"Oh, my," she says quietly. "We had best get to work if you're to be ready in time."

Tauriel wants to protest, to say she doesn't wish to go anyway, but doesn't have the strength for it. Instead she lets the maid wrap an arm around her and lead her to the adjoining bathroom.

"What's your name?" Tauriel asks.

"Arodeth," the maid says, getting Tauriel to perch on the edge of a stool once they are in the bathroom.

Arodeth sets to work drawing a bath, adding scented oils to the water as the copper tub fills. Tauriel is lucky to be living in a section of the kingdom that has direct access to the flowing hot spring beneath them. Many other elves must make do with the communal pools and bathhouses.

"Do you need help?" Arodeth asks.

"No, I can do it."

Tauriel starts by trying to untie the lacing on her leather bodice, but her fingers fumble and shake making it almost impossible.

Arodeth places her hands over Tauriel's, staying them.

"There is no shame in needing assistance."

Tauriel looks into the other woman's eyes, and upon finding nothing but care and understanding in their dark hue, drops her own hands and nods.

The maid helps Tauriel out of her soiled clothes, and supports her elbow as she climbs into the bath.

"I'll have these cleaned," Arodeth says, picking up Tauriel's garments. "Or… burned," she adds quietly, wrinkling her nose.

The warm water is so soothing on her tired muscles, and the lilac scent so refreshing, that Tauriel finds herself lifting from her fog.

With her blood pumping and mind restarting, her thoughts drift once more to Kili. The tears fall freely, and silently, streaming down her face and dripping into the bath water.

"Oh, sweet child," Arodeth says, softly.

The stool creaks loudly as it is drug across the floor to sit behind the head of the tub, and the maid takes a seat. She begins humming softly as she sets to work washing Tauriel's hair.

The tune she sings is old, yet familiar somehow.

After a few more strains, Tauriel recognizes it as a lullaby. It's one her mother used to sing to her. At least, she thinks it is. Memories of her mother are so distant.

She tries not to think of it. The last thing Tauriel needs is to open old wounds while so grievously injured from her recent one.

Her eyes drift close and she blocks out everything but for that melody and the gentle tug of fingers working through her hair.

When Arodeth is done, she instructs Tauriel to clean herself, and then slips out of the bathroom to find a change of clothes.

Tauriel does as she's told, feeling somehow lighter than she had when she first climbed into the tub.

When she gets out and towels off her mind drifts again, the fog rolling back in. She's aware of being given clothing to put on, and Arodeth helping lace her up, but she's not aware enough to realize how ill-fitting the gown is, despite coming from her own tailored wardrobe.

Tauriel feels her hair being brushed and braided, but does nothing to help ready herself.

Then, the next thing she knows, she's being led to meet the King by the guard from outside her door.

x

Thranduil is already waiting in the dining chamber when the guard arrives escorting Tauriel.

They are eating in the third of three dining halls the King normally uses. The first two are much larger, suitable for hosting guests and foreign dignitaries, while the third is much smaller, intimate almost. It is rare for guests to be welcomed here.

He notices immediately that the problems he saw with Tauriel earlier go much further than poor grooming. Now that she is cleaned up, hair brushed, and wearing clean clothing, he can truly see the toll the last few weeks have taken on her.

The gown she wears Thranduil recognizes as one she wore a month previously to a full moon banquet. Where it had been quite tailored, hugging her form closely, it now drapes loosely off of her.

Her gaze is hollow, and skin ashen and pale, even by elven standards.

Thranduil swallows his anger, furious her condition was not brought to him sooner, but not wishing to take it out on her.

"Good evening, Tauriel," he says, approaching her.

With one nod the guard is dismissed, leaving the King and his Captain alone.

"My King," she responds, her voice hoarse.

Tauriel manages to give a clumsy bow, but Thranduil gets the feeling she isn't really there with him.

"Come sit and join me."

Thranduil takes his place at the head of the table and signals Tauriel to sit to his right. She does so, but refuses to meet his gaze.

The table is covered in a spread of different, hearty, dishes. Much more than the two of them will need, but he wanted to make sure there would be something that may appeal to her.

Tauriel keeps her gaze trained down at her lap, and unsure what to say or how to begin, Thranduil pours them each a drink.

Her hand is on her glass before he's finished pouring and she takes a deep drink, before promptly snorting into her cup.

"I did not think his majesty drank water with dinner," she says quietly, placing her cup back on the table as if it burned.

_I think you've had quite enough wine,_  he thinks with a small smirk.

"Sometimes it is best to help keep a clear mind."

"And sometimes a clear mind can be a burden," she responds.

Thranduil serves himself a plate of rabbit stew, and nods in Tauriel's direction.

"Please help yourself."

She looks across the table but makes no movement to get any food.

With a long-suffering sigh, Thranduil scoops a large ladle of stew onto her plate as well.

"Eat," he commands.

At first he doesn't think she will obey, but after a moment a shaky hand picks up her spoon and she slowly begins to eat.

It's only once she is on her third or fourth bite that Thranduil himself begins to eat, watching her closely as he does so.

Something feels off. She is physically here with him, but he has the feeling she is still far away. This bothers him more than he can explain.

_Doesn't she realize I am trying to help?_

When se clears her plate of stew he passes her a roll.

"Eat," he repeats.

She glances at him briefly, but looks away as she takes the roll, tearing small pieces off of it and chewing slowly.

When she finishes she returns her gaze to her lap and doesn't speak.

For someone normally so outspoken, and full of fire and drive, it is disconcerting to see her so lifeless. Thranduil frowns, his stomach tossing at the thought of losing someone else after so much death and bloodshed already.

"Tauriel," he begins, but she does not look at him.

He reaches out and places his hand gently across hers.

x

Tauriel inhales sharply.

She jolts, and her skin prickles where his hand lies across hers. The fog that she had so welcomed begins to lift and she can see everything in the room with a startling new clarity.

She looks at where their hands are intertwined, and then looks up at her King. There is a softness she's never seen before in his face, and a sadness.

"Tauriel, I have been where you are," he is saying. "Now is not the time to give up. You must fight."

Her chest hurts.

"Why?" she asks, meeting his piercing stare. "What is the point?"

"You are needed."

She snorts, and gives a humorless laugh.

"To make an example of?"

"I'm sorry?" he asks, seeming genuinely confused.

"Is that why you invited me here? You just need me to eat and be healthy so it doesn't look as if you treat your prisoners poorly when I go on trial."

"What are you talking about? What trial?"

"My trial. For— for treason… or for threatening my King? I drew my bow and aimed an arrow at your face.  _In front_  of the company you were leading. I know I was wrong, so I won't try to sway you, and I won't ask for leniency."

"What? You are not going to trial," he says, incredulous.

"But I—but you… I was brought back under armed guard, and there is a soldier stationed outside of my room."

"I did not want you travelling alone back to the palace in the condition you were in, and the guard is there in case you need anything."

Tauriel stares at him in bewilderment.

"I don't understand. I disobeyed orders. I was banished. I  _threatened_ you."

"I think we both know you were hardly a threat," he says, cocking his head to the side.

She opens her mouth to make a snide comment, but closes it again and rolls her eyes.

"I don't understand," she repeats. "Why would you let my actions go unpunished?"

Thranduil's face grows somber.

"Because I understand why you did what you did," he says quietly, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her hand, "and I think you've suffered quite enough."

The compassion in his voice is something she has not heard in many, many years and it brings fresh tears to her eyes.

_This is not the man I know._

"Even if he was only a dwarf," the King adds.

She's not sure why, but the way he says it, so dismissive, and dramatic…  _so Thranduil_ … Tauriel finds herself laughing.

_This. This is the man I know._

She laughs long and hard until her mirth gives way to a fresh wave of sadness and her laughter turns to sobs.

Thranduil squeezes her hand and when she looks up at him he is holding out a handkerchief and giving her a sad smile.

"He was quite tall for a dwarf," he says softly, and she nods and responds with a watery smile.

Later, after he convinces her to eat dessert, the King himself escorts her back to her room.

"Thank you," she tells him at her door.

"What for?"

"For making me smile. For not prosecuting me for treason."

"Well, just try not to commit any more treason. I can't let it slide twice. People will think I've grown soft."

She gives him an exaggerated nod.

Retreating to her chambers, she is just about to close the door, but pauses.

"Does it go away?" she asks. "The pain?"

He shakes his head slowly, his mouth a thin line.

"No," he replies, "it is always there. Though, it does grow easier to bear with time."

"Thank you for your honesty."

Thranduil bows his head to her and then turns and walks away.

It is the first night since her return to Mirkwood that Tauriel goes to bed without a bottle of Dorwinion Wine as her companion.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you guys so much for the amazing outpouring of support for this story. I am so glad you are enjoying it so far. All reviews are greatly appreciated, and I do read every one of them! I know things are dark right now, but they will improve with time. Please let me know what you think!


	4. Night Blooming

The next day Thranduil finds his mind wandering, consistently ending up back on his Captain. No matter how much he tries to urge himself to stay focused on the task at hand, finalizing the memorial of his fallen soldiers, and ensuring all the widows are well cared for, he inevitably ends up thinking about Tauriel.

It seemed like there was real progress made the night before, but if he knows anything about progress after the loss of a loved one, he knows that relapse is not out of the question. It is because of this knowledge and his wandering mind, Tauriel's matronly maid, Arodeth, who has never even spoken to the king before, finds herself summoned to a private conference.

Thranduil is sitting behind his desk in his council room when Arodeth is shown in. She stops to stand in the middle of the room, her hands fidgeting despite the tall, cool, demeanor she is trying to present.

"Arodeth, isn't it?" he asks, glancing up from his scrolls.

"Yes, your majesty," she says, bowing.

"You're probably wondering why I have summoned you."

"I'm so sorry," the maid bursts, stepping forward. "I really tried to get her to eat. I even asked around to find out her favorite foods, and when that didn't work I begged someone to alert you… or someone who could help her."

"That's not why you're here, though I do appreciate the care you've shown for Tauriel. I merely wanted to ask you how she was doing today?"

"Oh," the maid sighs, sounding relieved, but then she continues with a less relieved sounding, "oh. Well, she hasn't drank any more wine since before you called on her yesterday—"

"That's something."

"—but she didn't touch breakfast or lunch again," she finishes with a grimace.

"I see."

Thranduil muses whether it was just his own dealings with loss that tipped him off something was still wrong, or if it was something else entirely.

"Do you have any suggestions as to what we—I can do?" Arodeth asks.

He nods.

"Tell Tauriel I insist upon her joining me for dinner once more."

"Yes, your majesty," the maid says, bowing.

Thranduil nods her dismissal and returns his attention to his scrolls, or at least pretends to.

"And can I just say," Arodeth begins, drawing his eyes back up, "how wonderful I think it is for you to take such a special interest in her well being?"

"Special interest? I wouldn't go so far as to call it a special interest… more of a general interest. For the Kingdom. She is a very valuable member of the Guard."

An arched eyebrow, almost rivaling his own arching abilities, tells him that the maid doesn't quite believe his rambling. He dismisses her again, grateful that this time she leaves.

He has work to attend; work that certainly does not involve his thoughts zeroing in on one suffering Captain, when there are so many heartbroken members of his realm at the moment.

X

Tauriel wakes much earlier than she would like to, and with her head less muddled than it has been in weeks. She's not fond of it. Waking earlier gives her more time to dwell on thoughts she'd rather not, and less muddled means dwelling with clarity.

She contemplates walking the corridors, a habit she picked as a child when she was unable to sleep, but that is a hobby best left for midnight strolls unless she wants to be stopped by everyone she passes.

Not in the mood for polite discussion, Tauriel tries to lose herself in a book. She gets three pages in before some reference causes her mind to wander to Kili. Choosing another book she makes it five pages before she's thinking of her parents.

_Why does one tragedy insist on dredging up all tragedy in your life?_

She throws the book across the room, and it hits the wall just as the door opens and Arodeth steps in. The maid jumps visibly and Tauriel grimaces.

"I suppose I should have knocked, sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. That wasn't aimed at you," Tauriel apologizes.

Arodeth had been in and out all day under some pretense or another. Dusting, changing the bed linens now that Tauriel was out of the way, delivering food that went untouched.

Tauriel wonders what pretense brings the maid to check on her this time.

"My Lady, the King would like to extend another invitation for you to join him for dinner tonight."

"Is that an actual invitation? Or is it the kind of invitation I am not allowed to decline?"

"He did not say, but I hardly think it proper manners to decline our King anything he ask," Arodeth says, a bit indignant.

Tauriel sighs.

"I suppose I should go. He  _could_  still charge me with treason," she adds under her breath.

"Treason?" the maid asks, closing the door quickly.

Feeling the beginning of a smirk, Tauriel can't help herself; she loves how uptight the older elves around here can be and her and Legolas loved to tease them.

"Oh yes. I threatened the King. I aimed an arrow at his face during the battle."

Arodeth gasps and claps a hand over her mouth, and Tauriel has to turn away to hide her small smile.

"Well, in that case you had best not decline his offer. In fact, I expect you to be on your best behavior!" the maid chastises.

Normally being ordered around would set Tauriel on edge, but something about this woman is comforting and she actually enjoys listening to the tirade about manners as she is dressed and primped for dinner.

Tonight she pays closer attention to what she is wearing. A flowing emerald gown, that has much more flow than it should. She didn't realize just how much weight she dropped since the battle. Upon inspecting her face and finding just how unhealthy she looks, Tauriel vows to make herself eat.

_Kili would not want this._

Arodeth accompanies her to just outside the dining room, whispering tips on being a respectful dinner guest along the way.

They are dining in the same room as the previous night, only tonight Tauriel is much more aware of its beauty. Lavishly decorated in hanging silks and elaborate carvings, the room clearly reflects the King's refined tastes.

Speaking of the King, he is waiting for her, draped in green and silver, and rises when she enters.

Tauriel offers a bow, and Thranduil signals she again take the seat to his right.

"Good evening, my King," she says taking a seat. "Thank for the invitation. You honor me two nights in a row."

"Good evening," he says, eyeing her almost suspiciously. "I was hoping to inquire after your well being."

"I'm doing much better," she lies.

"Tauriel."

"I'm— not doing any worse," she amends.

Thranduil nods, finding that an acceptable answer and pours her a glass of water.

"Please help yourself," he says, gesturing a table full of food.

Tonight she listens and fills her plate, just briefly catching the look of satisfaction on the King's face.

They begin eating in silence and Tauriel has no idea what to say. She's not entirely sure why she's here, or why the King seems to be so concerned with her.

"I have been… distracted," she says finally, breaking the silence. "Caught up in my own problems. I never asked, how many? At the battle. How many did we—?"

"One hundred and thirty-seven losses," he says stiffly.

Tauriel bows her head, ashamed she never once considered the fate of her people, so consumed in her own grief she was.

"I'm sorry. A tragic loss."

Dinner grows quiet again, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Have you considered when you will be coming back?" the King asks eventually.

"Coming back?"

"To the guard. I know you need time to grieve, and I will not rush you, but you are needed. Now more than ever."

"No, I really hadn't thought about it. I guess I didn't realize avoiding treason included keeping my place among the guard."

"You're one of the best, it would be foolish to let that go to waste."

"Thank you," she says, feeling her cheeks flush.

While she had been the youngest person ever named a Captain of the Guard, she'd never received a sincere compliment on her skills before from the King.

"Since Legolas has left us, we need all the talent we can get. His is a difficult space to fill," he says, voice stiff and neutral, but when she looks into his eyes she can see the emotion swimming just below the surface.

"Why did he leave?" she asks.

Thranduil's eyes harden, and he turns his gaze to his plate.

"I think we both know the answer to that."

Feeling her throat tighten, Tauriel sets her fork down and picks up her goblet, feigning a drink and trying not to draw attention to herself. She knows her guilt must be written all over her face.

The guilt fades quickly enough, and she feels the need to defend herself.

"I never encouraged him," she swears. "He's been like a brother to me. And— and I was always more interested in my training, and then in the guard than in anything of that sort."

"Not always, if recent activities are taken into account."

Her mouth pops open in shock.

Seeming to catch his mistake, Thranduil tries to speak, but she cuts him off.

"Tauriel—"

"Thank you for dinner," she says coolly, throwing her napkin on the table. "I'll show myself out.

Before he says another word, Tauriel storms across the room and out the door, rushing so he won't see the angry tears on her cheeks.

She's thankful Arodeth isn't around when she returns to her bedchamber, sure the maid would have some relentless commentary on the rudeness of walking out on one's king.

Tauriel desperately wants to tell the guard to have a bottle, or two, of wine or honey mead or anything sent up to help her sleep… to forget… but she knows that would likely bring Arodeth as well. Instead she strips out of her dinner clothes, undoes her braids, and climbs into bed.

Sleep does not come easily, and when she does finally manage to drift off she is haunted by nightmares; first of Kili, then of her parents.

She wakes in the middle of the night gasping, and covered in sweat. She needs fresh air and something else.

Tauriel climbs out of bed and slips into a long white robe. She's not concerned with modesty at this hour, where she's going no one will see her. After grabbing a brass key from her desk drawer she peeks outside her door to find the guard gone. Feeling lucky, she slips out unnoticed.

X

He doesn't know why he said what he did. He knows it was cruel, and that it hurt her, which had not been his intent. He just grows so upset when thinking about how far Legolas is from home, and how unsafe.

Thranduil sinks onto a stone bench, and tilts his head back to look at the stars.

He hardly ever comes here anymore, never finding the time, but tonight he needed the light and the comfort it offers.

His private garden. Nestled at the top of the palace and securely hidden from sight if any enemy scouts are watching.

_So peaceful._

The air is filled with the aromatics of the flowers surrounding him; Evening Primrose, Moon Flowers, and Dragon Fruit Flowers. All of which only bloom at night, under the light of the moon.

Inhaling deeply he drops his gaze to the stone pond at his feet and feels his heart jump into his throat at the reflection he sees.

"Gilrin," he breathes, jumping to his feet and turning around.

She's standing before him, wearing a crown of starlight, with her gauzy white robe glowing.

"My King!"

Thranduil blinks in confusion, and his senses clear.

"Tauriel?"

"I'm sorry," she rushes, "I didn't think anyone would be up here."

"How did you get up here?" he asks.

She bites her lip and holds up a brass key, identical to the one in his pocket.

"Legolas gave it to me. I'm sorry, you can have it back."

Tauriel tentatively walks over to him, and then reaches out to push the key into his hand.

"S—sorry, again," she whispers, dropping her head and turning away.

Thranduil, acting without thinking, catches her wrist as she turns.

"You don't have to go, please."

He releases her wrist and she turns back to face him slowly, pulling her robe tighter around her.

Stepping back, he gestures to the bench and she eyes him questioningly before slowly moving to sit down.

Thranduil sits beside her, feeling foolish, and wondering if she heard him when he saw her reflection.

"Allow me to apologize," he says softly, "for my callous remark this evening at dinner. I allowed myself to take my anger towards my foolish son, and direct it at you, most cruelly. I hope you can forgive me."

"Yes, I forgive you. I'm worried about him too."

Swallowing, Thranduil fiddles with the hem of his jacket, wondering if he should make an excuse and leave her to have the alone time she was seeking. Curiosity gets the best of him, though, and instead he decides to pry.

"What brings you up here in the middle of the night?"

"Nightmares. And starlight," she replies. "It usually helps clear my thoughts."

"Do you… wish to talk about it?" he asks.

Tauriel looks up at him and he feels the oddest sensation building in his stomach when he looks into her eyes, reflecting the night sky back at him.

"It was about Kili," she starts, and the sensation he was feeling disappears all at once, "at least it began that way. I watched him die again, only this time I didn't recognize the Orc who murdered him… at first. Then my surroundings shifted, and I was back in my childhood village watching my parents… watching them die too."

On its own accord, Thranduil's hand reaches out for hers, trying to lend some comfort.

"I've always had bits and pieces of what happened to them haunt my dreams, but this was different. This time I saw the whole thing."

He remembers that day clearly, and wishes she didn't.

"You saved my life that day," she says, squeezing his hand. "No one ever told me it was you. I knew that it was you who welcomed me into your home, but I never realized it was you who rode in on your elk and beheaded the Orc that murdered my parents. The one that was about to kill me too."

"I didn't think you'd ever be burdened by those memories," he sighs. "You were so young."

He can still picture that ten-year-old little girl, an infant by elven standards, cowering and looking up in fear as that foul creature descended on her. His blood had boiled and it took no time to dispatch the beast.

Thranduil had scooped the child up himself and rode her to safety. The way she clung to him, so desperate, and so sad, he knew he couldn't just send her away for someone else to care for. He brought her home instead. She was raised and trained in his palace, and it's not something he has ever truly regretted.

"Is it normal for one loss, to bring up others you have suffered?" she asks.

"I think it depends on how personal the loss is, but I would say yes, I think in your case what you are experiencing is very normal."

Tauriel closes her eyes and tilts her head back, inhaling deeply.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks after a few moments.

"Honestly, I am feeling better. At least well enough to sleep."

"Would you like some time alone up here?"

"I don't want to chase you off," Tauriel tells him. "It is  _your_ garden."

"No, no, not at all. I think I am going to turn in. Will you be alright?"

Thranduil wants to give her space, but he also worries about leaving her alone with so many ghosts of her past haunting her.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"Here," he says, offering her key back to her, "keep it. You may need it again."

"Thank you."

He bows his head to her, and is about to bid her goodnight, when she interrupts.

"Who is Gilrin?" she questions.

_She did hear me._

"Was," Thranduil replies softly. "She was my wife."

With that he takes his leave, trying not to remember the pain Tauriel is going through, and the pain he knows all too well.

* * *

**Author's Note:** That was a  _much_ longer chapter than normal, but I really wanted to find the perfect cut off point. Thank you so much for the reviews, I am so glad you seem to be enjoying the story! Happy New Year and please let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Gilrin - (Gill-rinn) Meaning Lady Crowned with Stars in Elvish.


	5. We Remember

Despite her stating she felt ready to sleep, Tauriel finds herself sitting in the garden until just before the break of dawn. She would have probably stayed longer if it weren't for the possibility she would be seen wandering about the castle in her robe.

Stealthily she returns to her room, noting there is still no guard at her door, thankfully. She slips into bed just as the morning rays break past the horizon, pulling blankets up to cover her face.

It feels like no time has passed when there is a knock on her door and Arodeth comes bustling in, carrying a breakfast platter. Tauriel groans, but urges herself back out of bed, remembering her promise to eat.

One would think Tauriel was presenting gifts of diamonds at the way Arodeth beams at her picking over breakfast.

"Is everything to your liking?" the maid asks, smiling.

"Yes, it's fine, thank you."

"Please let me know if there is anything else you need!"

The other woman's cheery disposition is almost too much for how tired Tauriel feels, so she attempts a smile and sends Arodeth on her way.

Not much food is needed to fill her up, and she gets a glimpse at just how much her stomach has shrank.

_How I'm supposed to return to the Guard in this shape I have no idea,_  she thinks.  _It is going to take a lot of training to make up for the muscles I've lost._

Just the thought of all that hard work, and energy required to train, has Tauriel groaning and crawling back to bed.

_At least I ate_ , she tells herself.  _That's something, right? One step at a time._

She returns the covers over her head and within minutes falls asleep, not waking until Arodeth returns at lunch with another tray of food.

Tauriel does not feel like eating again, her stomach still stretched from breakfast, but she suspects skipping meals is a sure fire way to earn another dinner with the King, and she's not feeling up to social interaction.

Again she forces herself to eat, under the ever-watchful eye of her smiling maid.

"What is it?" Tauriel snaps, weary of being watched.

"I have something for you," Arodeth says, smiling. "I was going to wait until you finished eating, but at that rate we'll be here all week."

The maid steps into the hallway and returns carrying Tauriel's daggers.

Tauriel frowns as she accepts them, slowly withdrawing one from its sheath.

"I had them cleaned and sharpened," Arodeth tells her. "I thought you'd like them ready for when you return to training."

Despite wanting to thank the maid for her thoughtfulness, Tauriel finds no words able to form. As she stares down at the blade in her hand her mind replays her fight with Bolg, and she is hit with a wave of guilt so crippling she almost collapses.

_I'm the one who called out for Kili. He was handling his own just fine, but I called out for him and he came looking. It's my fault. If I had only kept my mouth shut, he would still be alive… even if I wouldn't be._

In her heart she knows she would gladly trade places with Kili.

Swallowing loudly, her throat feeling oddly thick, Tauriel sheaths the weapon and sets the pair of daggers on her desk.

"Thank you," she forces herself to say. "I don't think I'm quite ready to train yet, but when I am, I'm glad to be prepared."

The maid gives her a sad smile and reaches out to pat her arm.

After she's gone, Tauriel can't bring herself to look in the direction of her desk, and situates herself on the farthest side of the room from it.

The day passes so slowly it feels as if time has stopped altogether.

As the sun begins to set, Tauriel starts to feel claustrophobic. The walls of her room press in towards her, and the daggers on the desk begin to feel like the embodiment of her guilty conscience.

Panic wells in her chest, and before she can stop herself she is fleeing from her room. She vaguely registers the guard outside her room calling after her, but she ignores him. The only thing that matters is the weight of the brass key in her hand.

Despite no forethought or planning, Tauriel coincidentally set out during the time most elves are sitting down to dinner. She only passes a few people in the corridors, and while they give her curious glances, no one stops her.

She doesn't breath freely until she bursts into the rooftop garden, catching sight of the first star of the evening shining above.

 

X

 

"Yes, yes, that will be fine," Thranduil says, sighing sadly. "I think that is the last of it then. Everything is set?"

"Yes, your majesty," Nimmon assures him with a bow.

Thranduil dismisses him, and pours himself a glass of wine.

_Now that work is done,_  he thinks as he takes a sip.

"Your majesty?"

Taking a deep breath and setting his cup back down, Thranduil looks up and finds Tauriel's maid standing before him, looking especially nervous.

"Don't tell me she's stopped eating again?" he asks.

"No, she actually ate both breakfast and lunch," Arodeth says. "It's just that now… she's missing."

"What do you mean  _she's missing?_ "

His eyes flash, and voice goes cold as steel. When the maid shirks, he tries to soften his tone.

_There is a difference in what it takes to cow a fellow diplomat, and what it takes to get your servant to speak._

"What happened?" he questions, softer.

"I don't know. When I arrived to bring her dinner the guard said she had run out and didn't tell him where she was going. He didn't follow because you told him to guard the room."

Thranduil tries not to roll his eyes and just barely succeeds.

"What is there to guard if she is absent?"

Arodeth doesn't respond.

_Where would she—?_

"Take the rest of the night off," he instructs. "I know where she is. There is nothing to be concerned about."

"She's alright, isn't she?"

"I suspect she just needs to clear her mind." He cocks his head to the side as he studies the woman before him. "You truly care for her, don't you?"

Arodeth nods once.

"I'd argue I'm not the only one," she says, giving him a sly smirk.

Before he can ask 'what is that supposed to mean' she excuses herself.

Without ever consciously deciding to go, Thranduil finds himself quietly slipping through the door leading to his private garden.

It's a quiet evening, save for the chirping of insects and the muffled sobs coming from the pond.

Keeping light on his feet, Thranduil weaves his way through the flowers, trying to get a closer look without revealing himself. What he sees makes his chest ache, though whether from sorrow, sympathy, or something else entirely, he's not certain.

Tauriel is siting on the ground, illuminated by the light of the moon. Her arm is resting on the edge of the pond, supporting her head, as she skims the water with her fingers.

Looking at her now, Thranduil doesn't know how he, even briefly, mistook her for his late wife.

Though both beautiful, the two women do not resemble each other in the slightest. Where Tauriel is kissed by fire, Gilrin had silver locks resembling his own. She had a soft face, instead of the sculpted angles and high cheekbones. Gilrin was taller than Tauriel as well and, though much older, she carried an innocence the Silvan Elf did not.

With all of the loss and sadness hanging over the kingdom, Thranduil suspects he let himself slip into reminiscence. Something he tries to avoid at all costs.

Not thinking about it, he finds himself moving closer. Gliding soundlessly through the vegetation, trying to be nearer to his forlorn Captain.

He must not be as quiet as he thinks he is, for Tauriel sits up suddenly, looking around as if she heard something.

"Hello?" she calls quietly.

Thranduil freezes, debating on whether to reveal himself or not.

"Kili?"

Her voice is less of a question, and more of a wish. Thranduil doesn't move, even going so far as to hold his breath.

"I'm sorry," Tauriel whispers. "Had I but listened, and kept my distance, you might still be here."

He wants to step out and assure her she is not to blame, but suspects she'd find his counsel more shocking, and surprisingly invasive, than anything.

 

X

 

Tauriel spends much less time in the garden tonight. She's not sure what it is, but she felt safer tonight. Protected. Watched over.

When she returns to her room, now unguarded, she has no problems falling into a dreamless slumber, and when she wakes the next morning she feels oddly energetic.

She argues that it probably has something to do with actually having eaten the day before, but part of her wonders if her garden guardian lent her new strength.

When Arodeth arrives with breakfast, she is thrilled to see Tauriel up and dressed.

"Look at you, Miss Ray of Sunshine," the maid squeals, delighted.

"That might be stretching it."

"Are you hungry, dear?"

"Famished, actually," Tauriel replies.

Tauriel seats herself and eats breakfast with a vigor she hasn't felt in a while. As she eats, she listens to Arodeth chatter away about the weather, about the renovation to the bathing pools, about pretty much anything all with out hitting a sensitive topic. Tauriel is grateful for the way the maid keeps the silence away, giving her anything to think about aside from that which she wants to avoid.

As she is clearing her plate, Arodeth tears open Tauriel's wardrobe and begins thumbing through the contents.

"I have another invitation for you," she says, "from the King."

Tauriel fights a groan.

"I'm eating again! What else does he want?"

Not that she isn't honored by his attention, and it is in fact something she used to long for, but she doesn't know how to handle him lately. He's normally so guarded, standoffish, barking orders at her whenever she is within earshot.

Tauriel knows how to handle  _that_ king. She's been doing it for six hundred years. What she doesn't know how to handle is this new man, so caring and concerned. It puts her on edge, waiting to say something wrong and end up berated, or banished again.

"He wanted me to inform you that memorial service for the fallen is this evening, and he would like you to be there."

"Oh," she says, heart sinking. "Of course."

Her stomach turns uncomfortably and the calm she'd awoken with seems to have vanished.

Arodeth has finished straightening the room and is getting ready to depart, when Tauriel stops her.

"Wait, can you— do you—" she stutters, trying to think of what to say. "Would you like to stay? I've grown tired of reading. What I'd really like is… a nice game of  _Pica Pano_. Would you like to play?"

Tauriel is certain the maid knows she is grasping, desperate not to be left alone, but she doesn't call her on it.

"I don't know," Arodeth says, exaggeratingly slow. "I would hate for you to be out of a job when the King finds out your maid demolished you in a strategy game."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Tauriel smiles thankfully.

"I guess we'll have to see about that. You're looking at the only person in the kingdom, aside from the King himself, who manages to defeat our Lord Legolas  _every time_ since she was about two hundred."

Tauriel jumps up and rummages through her desk, pulling out a small wooden plank drilled with holes, and a drawstring pouch containing black and white pegs.

She and Arodeth settle onto the bed and before she knows it they are lost in the game. The maid displays quite the talent for put-downs and smart remarks, and Tauriel finds herself replying in kind and actually laughing.

They pause only when Arodeth fetches them lunch, a tray of finger foods to nibble at while they play. Much to her surprise, Tauriel finds herself on the losing side three out of the four times they play, and her one win was by no more than a hair's breadth.

"Perhaps I  _will_  be out of a job!" she exclaims.

"I wouldn't do that to you," Arodeth smiles. "Oh, would you look at the sky? We should get you ready, there isn't long before the ceremony."

All of her discomfort comes rushing back and her throat tightens. If Arodeth finds her sudden silence disconcerting after an afternoon of talk, she says nothing, instead focusing on helping Tauriel prepare.

She hums, that same lullaby, as she braids Tauriel's hair, offering more comfort than she understands.

Tauriel wears a long silver robe, the customary attire for an Elvish funeral, meant to echo the belief that those lost take their place among the stars; their  _fëa_  shining for eternity on those they left behind.

Arodeth excuses herself briefly to change into her own silver dress, but returns to walk with Tauriel to the ceremony, though when they arrive to the largest courtyard they are parted.

Arodeth must stand with the rest of the general population, but Tauriel finds herself being escorted by a guard to the front of the ever-expanding crowd. Realization slams into her like a physical blow as she realizes the King expects her stand in front of everyone with the other Captains.

She tries to keep her breathing even and chin held high as she takes her place, briefly wondering if this is some kind of punishment. Being forced to stand in front of a crowd who likely knows she abandoned her post when she was most needed.

The room is shining brightly, illuminated by the moon and a series of cleverly placed mirrors to give the illusion of being outside. It makes Tauriel think of how it looks during the Feast of Starlight.

Tonight's crowd is much more somber, though. It's also parted in the middle, creating a wide berth around a cloth-covered monument in the center of the room she suspects is the memorial shrine.

Horns sound loudly and she follows the lead of her fellow Captains and turns to acknowledge the entrance of the King. She bows along with everyone else, while mentally cursing him.

Thranduil is decked in his finest, his cloak so radiant he almost appears to be giving off light. He takes his place standing before the Captains, not so much as sparing them a glance. She's not sure why this annoys her further.

"Tonight," he says, voice echoing loudly through the hushed hall, "we commemorate those who bravely fought, and fell. We honor their sacrifice. We celebrate their life.  _We remember!_ "

The King emphasizes his words, lifting his hands towards the sky. This must be the signal because there is the sound of whooshing fabric and the cloth covering the monument falls away, revealing a twenty-five foot tall black marble obelisk, engraved with the names of those lost.

The crowd murmurs, and Tauriel can see the approval on their faces.

"Please join me," Thranduil commands, drawing attention back to himself, "in venerating these heroes."

He claps his hands and waiters step out from the sides of the room, carrying trays laden with drinks and food. From the back corner music starts to play and the crowd begins to buzz with talk and mingling.

The King turns to face his captains.

"You are dismissed," he says, "please join the party and honor your fellow soldiers. It is what they would want."

He doesn't look directly at Tauriel and she feels oddly hurt. Despite what she felt earlier, not knowing how to handle the considerate and caring King, she forgot how hard it was to be completely ignored.

In fact, she thinks it is worse now, having been on the receiving end of his concern.

While the other guards bow their heads and then make their way into the crowd, Tauriel turns away and starts for the nearest exit.

She's makes it down the hall and has just rounded the corner when she feels a hand clamp down on her shoulder.

"Please, I can't—" she begins, thinking Thranduil has followed her to command her back.

"I bet you can't! Too much guilt?"

Instead of finding the King, Tauriel instead finds herself facing her second in command, Erwarth.

Erwarth towers over her, a good two feet taller than herself. His eyes, black as his hair, are filled with hatred and rage. His face, scarred along the right cheek, is contorted into a snarl.

He shoves her roughly, knocking her into the carved stone wall.

"Get away from me," she commands.

"You think you still have a right to order me around, dwarf-lover?"

Erwarth withdraws a dagger from his belt and swoops closer, leaving her nowhere to go.

"I am still your commanding officer," Tauriel insists, trying to keep her voice steady, and desperately wishing she weren't unarmed.

"You," he sneers, pressing his blade to her throat, "are  _scum_."

"I would lower your dagger, unless you would enjoy being decapitated, that is."

Tauriel sighs in relief as Erwarth drops his weapon, her earlier annoyance with the King forgotten as she catches sight of him, sword drawn and aimed at her assailant's face.

"Guards!" the King calls, and two come rushing from around the corner. "Seize him."

"This isn't over," Erwarth spits, as he is taken into custody.

"Yes, it is. You are hereby banished from my kingdom, and if I ever lay eyes on you again your head will decorate my front door."

Tauriel looks to the King in shock; Erwarth is one of the most senior members of the guard. He's fought for this realm for the better part of his three thousand years.

The guards haul him away, leaving a stunned Tauriel alone with the King.

"Are you hurt?" Thranduil asks, sheathing his sword and reaching out to her.

"I'm fine, th—thank you."

"That won't happen again."

"Do you think he's the only on angry with me?" she asks, shaking her head. "You are a fool if you truly think this ends tonight."

Without waiting for a response, or a reprimand for calling her King a fool, Tauriel turns and runs, not stopping until she is safely behind her barred bedroom door.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Again, I rarely write chapters this long, but there is just something about this pair that keeps me going. Thank you so much for your kind reviews, I read every single one of them and they truly keep me motivated! As always, please let me know what you think!

Translations:

_Pica Pano_ \- Spot Plan (I was kind of referring to that game where you move plastic pegs around a triangle shaped board, no idea what it's called, and P _ica Pano_  was the closest translation of 'Peg Strategy' I could find.

_Fëa_ \- Soul or spirit


	6. Visitors

Tauriel strips out of her mourning robe and changes into a nightgown, deciding to make an early night of it. She's positive the events of tonight will have some ramifications come morning, so she tries to get some rest, hoping her dreams will be peaceful.

Surprisingly her dreams are very peaceful, though, perhaps a bit odd.

_It begins in a spring meadow, wildflowers dancing in the breeze, and the afternoon sun hanging brightly overhead. Tauriel is stretched out on a blanket, and when she turns she finds Kili right beside her, smiling, happy, and alive. She returns his smile, leaning over to close the distance between them and plant a kiss on his lips; one that he returns._

' _If only,' she finds herself thinking, conscious mind seeping into her dream._

_The scene changes suddenly and Tauriel is no longer laying down, but standing, and instead of the sun kissed meadow, she finds herself in the royal garden beneath the stars._

_Breathing tickles her neck sending shivers down her spine, and a large, warm, hand comes to rest on her shoulder._

_Tauriel twists, searching for the face of her garden guardian—_

Knocking on her bedroom door wakes her from her dream and the images slip away, like hundreds of dandelion seeds carried off by a puff of wind.

She blinks her eyes rapidly, trying to hold onto the dream, while simultaneously trying to figure out what is happening in the waking world.

Her room is almost pitch black, despite the curtains being cracked, only lit up by a sliver of moonlight.

_It's the middle of the night!_

Tauriel grumbles and climbs out of bed, wondering if Arodeth has come to seek her out after a long evening of celebrating life. She pauses before unbarring the door, her thoughts drifting to Erwarth.

"Who is it?" she asks, hands resting on the wooden bar.

"It's me Captain," a voice calls, and she recognizes it as one of the guards who has spent shifts outside her room the last few weeks. "The King requests your presence."

Tauriel groans and lifts the bar.

"Of course he does," she grumbles, opening the door. "He couldn't just wait—"

Her words are cut off as she is thrown backwards by the guard shoving the door into her.

Closing the door behind him, the guard stalks towards her. Surprise and sleep muddle her thoughts and Tauriel tries to scramble backwards across the floor.

"Make this easy on yourself, traitor," he says. "Don't fight."

As he descends towards her, Tauriel kicks one of her legs out and connects with his knee.

"I've never been fond of the easy way," she growls as he falls to his knees.

Jumping to her feet, Tauriel tries to run past her assailant towards the door, but she isn't fast enough and he manages to catch her ankle. She goes sprawling once more, face first this time, with her head cracking on the stone floor.

"Ah!"

Stars swim before her eyes and the pounding pain in her head only grows worse when the guard fists his hand in her hair and drags her into a standing position.

The room is spinning and Tauriel is positive if it weren't for the chokehold she's being placed in she would be back on the floor.

He has her back pressed to his chest and one arm wrapped around her throat, tightening against her windpipe.

She tries scratching at his arm, but his free hand comes up and pins her left arm to her side.

Tauriel stomps down on his foot, but between the combination of head injury, lack of air, and her recent starvation, the act has no effect whatsoever. Her legs flail about, kicking and trying to unbalance the guard.

He grunts and takes a couple steps forward, pinning her legs against her desk, halting their movement.

Black pinpricks speckle her vision and Tauriel knows she is moments from passing out. Her right hand, still trying to pry his arm off, falls limply as she accepts defeat.

_Kili…_

Her hand grazes something metal, cold, and very familiar.

With the last of her strength, Tauriel grasps the hilt of one of her freshly sharpened daggers, and with one swift movement frees it from its sheath and buries the blade in her attacker's side.

He cries out in agony and lets go of his hold on her throat.

She gasps loudly, greedily sucking one breath, and then another and another, panting as he collapses to ground.

Head still spinning from lack of air and hitting the ground, Tauriel finds herself on the floor, crawling for the door.

As she's edging past the bleeding guard he makes one last grab for her. Anticipating this, she pulls the dagger from his side and buries it in his heart, leaving no room for error.

Energy spent, she collapses on the body, her mind spinning but unable to land on any one thing.

 _Must… something… get… someone..._ she urges herself.

Wincing, and fumbling, she pushes herself to her feet and creeps towards the door.

There is no one in the hall, and the tiny, still somewhat coherent part of her brain tells her not to call out for help. It could attract the wrong kind.

Using the wall for support, Tauriel pulls herself along. At only one point in her journey does she hear anyone approaching her location, and she ducks out of sight, though, when they pass it takes her a long time to get back on her feet.

She doesn't know how long it takes her to reach her destination, but she could cry from relief when she sees the big ornate door come into sight.

X

Having just returned from the memorial service, Thranduil thought he was done with business for the day. The knocking on his bedchamber door suggests otherwise.

Preparing to be faced with something ridiculous and trivial, he throws open the door, only to have his heart leap to his throat.

"My… King…" Tauriel sputters.

There is a terrible gash across her temple, and her nightgown is drenched in blood.

Before he can even attempt to process the scene before him, she collapses. He just manages to grab her before she hits the ground.

Thranduil drops to his knees, cradling Tauriel in his arms.

"Guards!" he cries. "Guards!"

A healer is summoned to the King's quarters as guards sweep the area, searching for an attacker. Thranduil places Tauriel in his own bed, not wanting to risk moving her too far and aggravating any injuries.

When the healer arrives Thranduil paces the edge of the room anxiously, not wanting to get in the way by hovering too close. While his own skills at healing are above that of the average elf, the king trusts no one more than Maereth, the royal healer. She once saved his life when he was past saving.

" _You are a fool if you truly think this ends tonight."_  Tauriel's words echo in his mind.

"This is not her blood," Maereth informs him.

"Then why is she unconscious?"

"I did not say she was not injured, only that this is not her blood on her nightgown. She has sustained a very severe concussion; her throat is bruised in a manner that suggests her windpipe was almost crushed, and she has many other, less serious, marks and injuries."

"Can you help her?" Thranduil asks.

Maereth nods her head, and places her hand on Tauriel's injured temple. She begins chanting, her voice low and lilting. Thranduil is both mesmerized, and transported.

_He is the one on the bed, writhing in agony, with four guards having to hold him down flat. His skin burns with the fire of a thousand suns. The first thing that breaks through his pain is her voice, calling him… calming him._

_She speaks so softly, yet so sure. Her voice washes over him, her incantations bringing the faintest hints of relief._

_Finally able to think of anything aside from the pain, Thranduil focuses on her face. Her kind blue eyes lock with his and he feels himself slip into a haze, where all that exists are those eyes and that voice._

"I've healed her head, and done what I can for her throat. That is something that will need another session or two. She should not speak," Maereth says, calling him from his memory.

"Thank you," Thranduil says.

"She can be moved now. Would you like me to fetch someone?"

"Hmm?" he asks.

He had been staring at Tauriel; at some point during the healing process, while his mind wandered, Maereth had dressed Tauriel in one of his nightshirts.

"Would you like me to fetch someone to move her? I'm assuming you don't want to keep her here in your room?"

"Yes, of course not. No, don't trouble yourself," Thranduil tells her. "I'll see Tauriel safely returned to her quarters."

As Maereth departs, a guard enters.

"My King, we think we found the person responsible for Tauriel's injuries."

"I wish to see them."

"It was Langon. He's dead, my King. Found in Tauriel's chamber with her dagger through his heart."

"Langon?" Thranduil questions, incredulous. "He was one of the guards I assigned to her room. That does not make sense."

"Word has reached the council," the guard tells him, "they would like to call a session at once."

Thranduil waves the guard away.

"Tell them I am indisposed."

The guard bows and shows himself out, closing the door behind him, leaving he King and his Captain alone.

_Another dead elf… what happened?_

Thranduil approaches the side of his bed and perches on the edge, studying Tauriel's sleeping face. There is a thin line on her temple where previously there had been a gash, and he traces his finger across it, wondering if it will scar.

She turns her head nuzzling his hand and he pulls away, suddenly realizing how intimate their situation appears.

Tauriel asleep in his bed, in his clothing, while he caresses her face…  _highly inappropriate._

_She could have died, and yet you sit here with your mind wandering like an elfling barely out of his four hundredth year._

He isn't sure how long he sits with her before she starts talking.

"No, no, no," Tauriel begins muttering, her voice cracking.

"Shh, it's alright," he reassures. "You're safe now."

Her eyes flutter open and she jerks straight up, looking around in panic.

Thranduil places his hands on her shoulders and forces her to look at him.

"Tauriel, you are safe."

"He… tried to—to," her voice hoarse, and he can tell she's in pain.

"Shh, don't speak, you aren't well enough yet."

Her eyes are pleading with him, desperate to explain.

"Take my hand," he instructs, and she furrows her brow at him. "Just do it. Take my hand and I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions. Squeeze for 'Yes', do nothing for 'No', understand? Try not to shift your neck, I don't want you to hurt yourself further."

Tauriel tentatively takes his hand.

"Did your guard attack you?"

Squeeze.  _Yes._

"Was it unprovoked?"

_Yes._

"Were there others?"

Nothing.  _No._

"He was alone?"

_Yes._

"Do you know why he attacked?"

_Yes._

"T—traitor," she croaks.

"Shh, I know he was."

Very cautiously Tauriel shakes her head, then raises her free hand and points to her own chest.

"Traitor… you? You're the— he called you a traitor," Thranduil says, working it out.

_Yes._

"I'm sorry," Thranduil offers, wondering where all of these apologies the last few days are coming from. "I assigned Langon to your room, this is on me. And I didn't believe we would have any problems after news of Erwarth's banishment got around."

Tauriel opens her mouth to speak, but Thranduil shakes his head 'no', cutting her off.

A knock on the door draws both of their attention, and Thranduil reluctantly bids the visitor to enter.

"Your Majesty."

Thranduil stands to greet his guest.

"Lord Haewon, what brings you here this evening."

Haewon is one of eight members on the King's council, and though all members are seen as equal, Haewon has a lot of influence and often makes himself the voice of the council.

"The council just finished our meeting about tonight's events," Lord Haewon says.

"I hardly see how it is a matter of the council, the traitor has been dealt with," Thranduil insists, walking towards his guest.

While the King has ultimate power of the kingdom and its subjects, the council was created to ensure the citizens felt like they were being heard. The council brings the matters of the people to King's attention, allowing things to be handled before unrest can spread throughout the land.

"The council disagrees. The only thing we know for sure is that an elf, a member of the guard no less, was murdered tonight inside the palace walls… and  _she_ is to blame."

Lord Haewon points at Tauriel.

"We would see her brought to justice."

"It is my understanding," Thranduil says, voice dangerous, "that my Captain was attacked tonight, in her bedchamber, and only did what was necessary to survive."

"Be that as it may, the council is demanding a trial."

Thranduil turns on his heel and paces slowly towards the end of the bed, catching sight of Tauriel's wide-eyed worry.

He knows she did not kill anyone in cold blood tonight, and as King he could deny the council their trial and dismiss everything, but that comes with the risk of turning his back on his kingdom.

Something he cannot do.

He catches Tauriel's eye and tries to wordlessly reassure her he is on her side.

"Very well," he says, turning back to face the councilman. "A trial we shall have."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Lord Haewon beams, a cruel glint in his eye. "Guards, please escort Tauriel to her cell."

Thranduil bites his tongue as two guards swoop in on Tauriel, grabbing her by either arm and pulling her from his bed.

"Be careful," he finds himself saying, "she's not been proven guilty yet, and she is still injured. Have Maereth informed of her location so she may continue the healing process."

Tauriel keeps her mouth closed and jaw clenched, not saying a word as she's led away, though she shoots the King a look filled with accusation and he finds himself filled with dread over what's to come.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Not as long as the last couple chapters, but this felt like a good stopping point and I really wanted to get something up! This ship is slowly consuming my life... Thank you so much for the feedback and reviews, I really love reading it! While I don't reply to  _every_ review, if you have a direct question (that won't result in spoilers) I will do my best to reply as soon as I can.


	7. Helping Hands

Tauriel holds her head high and stares haughtily ahead, giving the impression she is not worried and everything is beneath her. At least, that's what she is trying for. In actuality it's not as impressive when you're being half carried because you can't support yourself, and wearing a man's nightshirt that barely falls halfway to your knees.

She understands why the King allowed her to be taken away, how he can't just ignore his duties. Tauriel knows many already perceive her as a traitor, having abandoned her post just before battle. To allow her to walk without trial after the murder of an elf, right here in the palace, would cause an uproar.

Knowing that does not, however, ease her annoyance.

_He could have at least overseen this himself,_  she thinks, glancing in the direction of the leering Lord Haewon.

Tauriel has not had that much interaction with the councilman, only having mingled in large social gatherings, but she's not fond of the man. There is something about him that puts her teeth on edge.

His son, Arradon, is a member of the guard, though it is clear the boy would rather be doing literally anything else. He's a nice enough man, so different from his father.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he comments as they approach the dungeons.

She doesn't say anything; partly because her throat is still too raw, and partly because the things she wants to say could end up leaving her with additional charges to face.

"It seems you might finally have done something that will lose you the King's favor. I mean, I thought that was a done deal when the Prince ran off because you broke his heart, but no. You prevailed. Soared even, getting invited to private meals with the King. I think that's all over now."

Tauriel glares at him, wondering where he gets his information. She doubts Legolas' reasons for departing are public knowledge.

They reach the dungeons and she's shoved unceremoniously into one, her chest tightening when she realizes it's the same cell Kili was kept in.

The bars slam shut, clanging loudly and causing her to jump despite having known it was coming. She stands in the middle of cell and looks out at the pompous councilman.

"Don't worry," he says, his voice slick as oil, "you won't be here long. I'm sure you'll be found guilty in no time, and then you'll be free of this place. And this earth."

He gives her one more wicked smirk and marches off, the guards trailing him, leaving Tauriel all alone in the gloomy cell.

She slinks over to the corner of the room and sits on the edge of the rough pallet bed.

Staring out the bars and seeing the place where she sat and discussed the wonders of the night sky with Kili, Tauriel thinks it will be too much. After the day she's had, this seems like the final straw. She waits, preparing herself for the jolting grief and tears, but none comes.

Instead she finds herself dry faced, and numb.

_Perhaps if I get out of this— when I get I get out of this, I should leave,_  she muses.  _Why stay somewhere no one wants me?_

Tauriel draws her knees up to her chest and pulls her nightshirt down as far as it will go, trying to shield herself from the dungeon chill. She rests her head on her knees and inhales deeply, an instantly familiar aroma surrounding her.

The scent of wine and spices; sharp yet soothing.

Her shoulders relax and she finds herself taking another calming breath.

_He knows I'm innocent,_  she thinks, picturing the King's worried face.  _He won't let anything happen to me here._

" _Shh, it's alright. You are safe now."_

She recalls his voice, comforting her.

" _Tauriel, you are safe."_

It's with those words she drifts off to sleep, still sitting upright, curled into herself. Her sleep is sound, no weird dreams or nightmares, though she does briefly wake in a haze, swearing she hears a woman shouting, but the sound fades and she slips back under.

 

X

 

Thranduil is picking over his breakfast in distaste, having no real appetite, when the door to his dining chamber bursts open loudly.

"I need to speak with you!"

It's Tauriel's maid, Arodeth, looking furious. A sheepish looking young guard is trailing her.

"S-sorry, my King. She's quite fast," the guard apologizes, taking hold of the maid's arm.

Thranduil sighs tiredly and waves his hand.

"Oh, just leave her," he says.

The guard is hesitant, but does as he's told, backing out of the room slowly and closing the door behind him.

Setting his fork down, Thranduil cocks his head to the side and waits.

"Imagine my surprise," Arodeth begins, pacing angrily back and forth, "when I go to deliver breakfast to Tauriel, I discover her room is blocked off. When I inquire as to what is going on, I am then informed that Tauriel has been arrested for murder and is locked away in the dungeons."

He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand silencing him.

_Who does she think she is speaking to?_

"So then, I head down to the dungeon to check on her and find out what in the heavens happened, only to have some bumbling buffoon of a guard tell me traitors are not permitted visitors. Despite giving him a piece of my mind, no one will tell me what is going on! I hear there is to be a trial?"

"If you could find the ability to hold your tongue, challenging for you as that may be, I may be able to enlighten you," he tells her.

Arodeth stops pacing and folds her arms in a huff, but doesn't say anything else.

"I don't have all the details yet, but last night Tauriel was attacked in her room. She killed the intruder in self defense, if her injuries are anything to go by, and then showed up at my door drenched in blood." He pauses, swallowing uncomfortably, haunted by the image of her arrival the night before. "The problem is her attacker was a respected member of the guard. It was Langon, one of the men I assigned to watch her room. The council is demanding a trial, and it wasn't something I could deny."

"Well you are king aren't you?"

"The way people have been addressing me lately, I'm really beginning to wonder," he says, giving her a dangerous look.

Looking away, blushing, Arodeth bows her head.

"I'm sorry for the way I burst in here," she apologizes. "I'm very worried for Tauriel. She was just starting to recover, and I worry this will be a setback. Please, will you allow me to see her?"

Thranduil hesitates only a moment before nodding.

"I'll instruct the guards to allow you access. Please check that Maereth has been to see her, there is still some damage to her throat that needs to be tended. Also, you should take her a change of clothes. I'm sure she'd be more comfortable."

"Thank you."

The maid bows slightly and turns to leave.

"Arodeth? Tell her— tell her not to worry. I will handle this."

Arodeth smiles sadly and excuses herself, leaving Thranduil with his troubled thoughts on just how he can help Tauriel.

 

X

 

When she wakes Tauriel finds her whole body aching. She winces as she stretches her legs, and tries to assess the damage.

Her head is pounding, throat is tight, and she generally feels as if she's been trampled by a horse.

The cell is damp and cold, and Tauriel wonders how long she's going to be kept down here.

_Will they move the trial along quickly, or am I going to be stuck waiting?_

"I have permission from the King!"

Tauriel hears a commotion from down the hall. She stands up, joints popping, and crosses to the prison bars, trying to see what is going on.

"That's what I thought, now run along."

"Arodeth?" Tauriel croaks.

The maid comes bustling towards her, with another woman following.

"She should not yet speak," the other woman says.

"Tauriel, this is Maereth, the royal healer," Arodeth introduces, fumbling with the cell key to open the door. "She healed you last night."

Tauriel steps back to allow the women entrance to the cell. She opens her mouth to thank the healer, but the woman silences her.

"Let me try to heal your throat again. There was too much damage to fix it all last night."

Nodding, Tauriel perches on the edge of the bed and the healer joins her. Maereth places cool hands around her neck and Tauriel tries to remain perfectly still.

When the chanting begins, Tauriel slips away. She's no longer in the dark dungeon, but outside in the garden, a gentle breeze playing across her skin.

The vision stops abruptly and she is back in the dank cell, the healer watching her serenely.

"Speak," the woman says.

"Thank you, for your help," Tauriel tries.

The words come out without pain, but her voice still sounds raw and husky.

"Much better," Maereth beams. "I'm afraid that may be the best I can do. The rest will heal with time."

"You're a miracle worker!" Arodeth gushes, patting Maereth's shoulder.

"There are some wounds I have no power over," she says, studying Tauriel. "The real miracle workers are those who can begin to heal wounds long ago hidden."

Tauriel wants to ask what that means, but Maereth stands up abruptly and offers them a small bow.

"If you need anything else, please let me know."

And then she is gone, leaving the maid and the captain alone.

Arodeth practically tackles Tauriel, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"Are you alright?" she begs. "I was so worried! They wouldn't let me come see you, I had to go to the King."

"I thought I heard someone yelling this morning," Tauriel smirks. "I'm okay, well I am now."

She gently massages her throat, again thinking of the healer's cryptic words.

"Did you say you've been to see the King?" Tauriel asks.

"Yes, I had to get in here somehow. No wonder he said to bring you a change of clothes, what are you wearing?"

"Oh, it's King Thranduil's," she says offhand. "Did he say anything else?"

Arodeth's eyes widen but she doesn't say anything, instead passing Tauriel a clean outfit.

"Thank you."

Tauriel pulls off the nightshirt and tosses it on the bed, dressing as quickly as she can to shield herself from the cold air. In her own clothes, dressed head to toe, she feels so much better… stronger.

"He did say something," Arodeth says, "the King. He told me to tell you not to worry. He will handle this."

Surprisingly, almost all of Tauriel's worry  _does_ vanish.

" _Tauriel, you are safe."_

"Can you tell me what happened?" Arodeth asks. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I understand if you'd rather not discuss it."

"No, no it's fine. I should probably get used to telling my story with the impending trial."

Taking a deep breath, Tauriel begins recounting her evening to Arodeth; beginning from the point they split up at the party. She tells her all about Erwarth and his banishment, and then about being woken up for false summons.

She recounts the attack, her stomach twisting, not out of fear, but out of shame.

_Had I been in peak health none of this would be happening. I could have subdued him in no time._

Tauriel vows to herself that when this is all over she is going to throw herself into training and gain back the skills she's let slip.

She ends her story with how gleeful Lord Haewon seemed to be by her detainment.

"I've never liked that man," Arodeth scowls. "He thinks he's royalty, when he's really just a horse's ass."

"How is it you always know what to say to cheer me up?"

"Just a gift, I suppose. Is there anything I can bring you?"

Sighing, Tauriel shakes her head.

"No, I doubt they'd let you smuggle a proper mattress down here," she says, glancing at the forlorn pallet bed.

"Probably not. I can take care of that for you though."

Arodeth is pointing to the King's balled up nightshirt on the bed. Tauriel opens her mouth and closes it, not sure what to say, but not wanting the shirt taken away.

"Oh, just— just leave it. I don't have a pillow."

A loud clanging on the cell bars startles both of them.

"Maid, your time is up," a guard calls.

"You won't be here long, you'll see," Arodeth assures her. "I have to go now, but I'll be back first thing to check on you."

"Thank you."

Tauriel watches her leave, wondering how she could have gotten so lucky with the random assignment of her maid. Before the battle she'd never allowed herself to be given a maid, feeling the overwhelming need to be as self-sufficient as possible. Now she wonders how much she's missed out on had Arodeth always been with her.

The day passes agonizingly slow.

No one else comes to visit her, aside from the guard that delivers her food. Her meals are subpar compared to her usual fare, but Tauriel forces herself to eat it.

Then, despite her aching body, she tries exercising. Push-ups and sit-ups almost bring her to tears, but she pushes herself anyway. When she reaches her limit she settles onto the floor and cools down with some basic stretches.

Despite all this, she still has far too much free time on her hands, and wishes she would have asked Arodeth to bring her a book or something.

Tauriel retreats to the furthest corner of her bed, pressing her back to the wall. She picks up the King's nightshirt and worries the soft material between her fingers.

The dungeon grows darker and she knows it is getting late; the guards are extinguishing most of the torches outside in the hall.

She pulls her knees to her chest once more and bows her head, bringing the borrowed shirt up to her nose to inhale it's comforting scent.

She isn't sure how much time passes before she thinks she hears footsteps outside of her cell.

Popping her head up she sees the outline of someone just beyond her bars.

"Tauriel."

"My King!"

Blushing a bit, she tucks the shirt she'd just been smelling behind her and rushes over to the door.

"I just came to inform you that your trial is being rushed. The council seems rather eager to put this behind them," he says. "It begins tomorrow."

"Oh… so soon?" she questions, biting her lip.

"You have nothing to fear. All the evidence supports that you were attacked."

"And yet I'm down here in the first place. There is something more going on… something feels off."

"You think this is more than an isolated incident?" he asks.

Tauriel leans closer to the gate, wrapping her fingers around the bars.

"I think we can't ignore the possibility. I was attacked twice on the same night, by two different people, and now despite clearly being the victim, the council is after me."

Thranduil glances around him, and moves in so she can hear him.

"Let's just get you through this first, and when you're free we'll work on the rest. Together."

Unable to hold her tongue, Tauriel asks something that has been bothering her.

"Why do you care so much? About what happens to me."

He's quiet for so long she doesn't think he'll answer. She's about to pull away and return to her bed, but his hand reaches out for hers where it rests on the prison bars.

"I've lost too many of my people already, Tauriel. I won't lose another. Especially one I— one I saved so many years ago."

His hand drops and she tries to ignore the sense of loss.

"I feel responsible for you," he finishes.

She doesn't know how to respond, so Tauriel remains silent.

"Here," he says, reaching a hand through the bars. "Take this. It's mine, but I'd feel better if you had it right now."

She takes his offering and holds it up to inspect it. The torchlight from outside the cell reflects off the blade of a small, intricately decorated, dagger. The hilt is black obsidian and there is a sapphire adorning the pommel.

"It's more of a ceremonial tool, but if you are attacked again it should do the job. Just keep it tucked away. They won't search you."

"Thank you," she whispers, still studying the delicate blade.

Thranduil looks both ways down the hall.

"I should go. I slipped down here as the guards were changing shifts. I don't want anyone to see me."

"Probably not a good idea for the King to be seen paying late night visits to traitors," she says, half joking.

"After tomorrow no one will think you a traitor," he insists.

Before she can ask him to elaborate he's gone, and Tauriel is left alone in the darkness, clinging to her borrowed blade.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Conspiracy, traitors, and betrayal, oh my! Please let me know what you think! I'm trying to keep the characters as close to "in character" as possible, though I feel I'm probably straying a bit. Hope it's not too much that it ruins the story for you!

Reviews are always read, and always appreciated! Thank you!


	8. Trial and Testimony

Try as she might, Tauriel is too nervous to sleep. Paranoia seeps into her mind like a poison and she runs through all of the possibilities of what tomorrow may bring.

Musing over whether or not someone is really out to get her, she wishes she would have asked the names of those lost, wondering if any were related to council members. Tauriel can't imagine any other reason someone would be mad at her.

Sure, many elves still hold prejudice towards the dwarves, as the relations between their two races have been anything but smooth in the past, but she doubts her budding relationship with Kili would drive anyone to want her dead.

The only thing that makes sense is an angry relative blaming the loss of a loved one on Tauriel for abandoning her post. If she's honest with herself, Tauriel can't really make herself blame them.

_I was wrong for running away when I was needed most._

She curls into a ball on her pallet bed, clinging to her makeshift nightshirt pillow, and the handle of dagger the King gave her, completely unaware that she's not the only one awake and worrying about her fate.

X

Alone in his chambers, Thranduil paces back and forth, wondering if he made the right choice bringing Tauriel back.

He did it because he worried that on her own she would not last, that she would allow her heartbreak to break her. Yet, here she is in his care facing the third threat against her life in a span of two days.

_She would not have lasted on her own,_  he assures himself, thinking of her self-starvation.  _You did the right thing._

Despite his reassurances, he can't help but feel responsible for putting her in danger, and spends most of the night stressing over how to fix it.

He doesn't know how he'd live with himself if something happened to her because of him. His chest aches at the very thought, though he refuses to think about why the idea causes him so much discomfort. Thranduil writes it off as something he would surely feel for any of his soldiers, were they in a similar position.

In the morning when he is summoned for the start of the trial, it is no surprise to him that he got no rest at all, and he wonders if Tauriel fared any better.

Most trials are open to the public, and this is where they hit the first snag. Thranduil is led to the council chambers, instead of the public court hall.

"What exactly am I doing here?" asks Thranduil, looking around haughtily at the council members.

There are eight in total, four women, and four men. Most of them look unsure as to the current location as well, and it is Lord Haewon that steps forward.

"Your majesty, we are charging Tauriel with being a traitor. Traitors are not permitted public trials in case state secrets are revealed."

Thranduil glares at the man.

"I was under the impression Tauriel was being charged with  _murder_ , not treachery."

"Well, yes. That too," Haewon amends, "but she did abandon her post during the battle."

"What concern is that of yours?" Thranduil demands.

"It is all of our concern when those tasked to lead find themselves unable to, or  _unwilling._ "

"Even if that were the issue on trial today, that would make her a deserter, not a traitor. I see no reason to forgo a public trial, and I move that we relocate to the court hall at once."

Lord Haewon is clearly not pleased with this idea, but the murmurs from the other council members keep him silent.

"I second that," one of the councilwomen, Lady Neleth, chimes.

Most of the rest of the council voices their agreement, and before long, much to Lord Haewon's displeasure, the group relocates to the court hall.

The time of the trial is pushed back to allow for word to spread among the people so there may be an audience, and it isn't until three hours later that Tauriel is brought in.

Thranduil can't help but watch her closely as she's escorted in, feeling livid when he sees the shackles on her wrists. He can tell immediately that she got no rest after his visit last night. She's not as good at concealing weakness as he.

Her eyes are bloodshot, and the bags under them leave her looking bruised, though, to be fair, they may  _actually_ be bruised.

Tauriel is trying to keep her head up and eyes straight, but he can see her nervously surveying the room, and he can't blame her.

There is an unprecedented crowd present today, especially considering the short notice.

Glancing at the council, Thranduil sees Lord Haewon looks particularly annoyed by this.

_It's much easier to sway one council than it is to sway the entire kingdom_.

He suspects that's why Haewon pushed for a private trial.

X

Tauriel feels like an animal being led into a trap as she is walked to the front of the vast courtroom.

There are people lining the hall on either side of her, watching and whispering, barely managing to keep contempt from their voices. She catches sight of too many angry faces and can't bring herself to scan the crowd any more.

Instead she looks up at the council.

At the front of the room is a long, elevated, wooden table, where the council members sit to question and judge her. Her eyes lock on King Thranduil seated near the middle, next to Lord Haewon.

His eyes are already on her when she looks up, and she feels a blush come to her cheeks, though she isn't sure why.

The guards lead her to a wooden platform, about fifteen feet from the council bench, then leave her there.

"Tauriel, Captain of the Guard," Lord Haewon begins, voice echoing through the hall commanding silence, "you have been charged with the murder. Of a fellow soldier, no less… How would you like to plead?"

Her throat is tight and dry, but she does manage to speak.

"Guilty."

Whispers spread throughout the watching crowd, sounding like a pit of hissing vipers.

"Order, order!" Lord Haewon commands, and the crowd falls silent. "You wish to admit to the murder of your guard, Langon?"

"Yes," Tauriel says, nodding, feeling stronger. "I admit that he died by my hand, but it was in self-defense."

More murmuring breaks out around her, quieter this time.

"Why don't you tell us, in your own words, what happened that night?" One of the councilwomen asks, her tone much gentler than Lord Haewon's.

Tauriel nods, and begins her story, starting from Erwarth attacking her when leaving the memorial service. She explains how Langon pretended the King summoned her to get her to open her door, and then how he charged her. Tauriel tries to clearly portray her attempt to simply escape, and then how she had no other option but to take lethal action.

When she finishes most of the council is looking at her in understanding. Lord Haewon isn't looking at her at all; he has his face down and appears to be scribbling notes.

"Captain," he drawls, finally glancing up, "Are you often summoned to the King's chambers in the middle of the night?"

"What? No, of course not," she says, confused.

Glancing at the King she finds him twisted in his chair, glaring at the councilman.

"Right, so why would you believe suddenly that you really were being summoned?" Lord Haewon continues. "That seems fairly unlikely."

"I—I already told you, I was attacked earlier in the night, and King Thranduil intervened. I assumed it was a follow-up on that."

"And what did you do after this alleged attack took place?"

"I went to the King," she replies, jutting her chin forward.

"Right. To his personal chambers?"

"I—yes."

"Did you at any time during, or after, the alleged attack call for help?" Lord Haewon asks.

"Well, no, but it happened so fast."

"Why did you not call for help afterwards?"

"I was scared it would draw attention. The  _wrong_ kind of attention," she clarifies. "As I said, that was the second time I was attacked that evening, and by a completely different person. I didn't know who I could trust."

"You seem awfully paranoid," the councilman smirks. "Why is it that you seem to think people are out to get you?"

Tauriel bows her head for the first time, staring at her shackles.

"They see me as a traitor," she answers quietly.

"A little louder, if you don't mind."

"They see me as a traitor," she repeats, her voice echoing around the silent hall.

"Why is that?" Lord Haewon asks, voice dripping sweetly as if he is relishing this moment.

"Before the battle for Erebor, I abandoned my post."

"And why was that?"

She opens her mouth to reply, but closes it again as she thinks about why she left her post.

_Was it really just one thing?_

Tauriel wanted to help Kili, she wanted to make sure he would be all right, but that wasn't all. She also left because she was sick of standing idly by while people suffered when she could be of service. She was tired of the King's no intervention policy keeping the kingdom so sealed off and self-contained. Tauriel wanted to be free of those shackles and help whomever she wished.

"Why did you leave your post?" Lord Haewon repeats.

"I really couldn't tell you," she finally responds, looking up to see his smug expression.

The councilman is getting ready to say something else, when King Thranduil cuts over him.

"I move to open the floor for those wishing to speak on the accused's behalf," he says.

Someone seconds and then thirds the movement, and the next thing she knows Tauriel is standing off to the side of the platform.

The royal healer, Maereth, is in her place now, speaking to the council.

Maereth details Tauriel's injuries, testifying that they were indeed consistent with self-defense.

"For corroboration purposes, where did you treat the Captain?" Lord Haewon asks.

"I was summoned to the King's quarters. I healed her head and partially healed her throat there, then the next day I visited her in her in the dungeons to try another attempt at healing her throat," Maereth explains.

"And what state was she in when you first found her?"

"I told you she was covered—"

"I mean, was she awake? Unconscious? On the floor?"

"She was unconscious, and she was propped up on the bed."

Tauriel frowns, wondering how any of this could hold any relevance.

"Thank you for your time, Healer Maereth," one of the councilwomen interjects. "Is there anyone else who wishes to offer testimony?"

"I would."

King Thranduil stands up from his place among the council and walks around the bench, towards the witness platform. The crowd buzzes loudly, most forgetting to at least  _try_ to whisper.

This is unprecedented.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Tauriel watches the King take the platform. He doesn't look her way, instead choosing to stare down the council members.

"Before I ask you any questions, is there anything you would like to say?" Lord Haewon asks.

"I would like to go on record confirming Healer Maereth's findings, and confirming the Captain's statement about seeking me out after her attack," Thranduil says, voice steady and calm, "and before you ask, yes, I did say attack. I was not witness to that, but I can testify that when she appeared at my door, there was no question in my mind that she had been in a struggle for her life."

Tauriel has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. If the King is standing in front of the council and the kingdom backing her up, surely she can't be found guilty.

"You were also witness to the attack on Captain Tauriel earlier in the evening, were you not?"

"I was."

Lord Haewon's expression shifts, his eyes turn both calculating and triumphant, setting warning bells off in Tauriel's mind.

"Do you know why Erwarth, senior member of our military, decided to suddenly attack his superior officer?" the councilman asks.

"He called her a traitor."

"Yes, as we have already heard from the Captain herself, after which she stated she was viewed as a traitor because she abandoned her post before the battle. Were you aware of this?"

Tauriel's stomach flips.

_Haewon knew he wouldn't get me on the murder charge, so he's going to force the King's hand, in front of the whole kingdom, to charge me with desertion._

There is no way out of the question, she knows. The King can either admit he knew and chose to ignore her actions, which will greatly call his judgment into question, or he can deny any knowledge of her misdeed.

_Deny,_  she thinks.  _I understand. I'm going down no matter what… don't throw yourself with me._

"Yes," Thranduil answers, "I was."

_No, no, no…_

"And yet no charges were filed against her?" Lord Haewon presses, barely able to keep the glee from his voice. "Is this considered normal, suitable behavior among our military leaders? Having no consequences for their wrongs? Can one really blame the men that attacked Captain Tauriel? Perhaps they just assumed they too could do what they wished since the precedent had been set."

"Despite this being a council trial, I would like to remind you to whom you are speaking," Thranduil says icily.

That seems to wipe the smirk from Haewon's face, and a few of the other council members glance around nervously.

"I was aware that Captain Tauriel left her post before the battle," Thranduil continues, louder, "as I was the one who instructed her to do so."

It takes all of Tauriel's self control to keep her face clear of confusion at the King's words. She studies his profile, but he still refuses to look at her.

Up at the council table Lord Haewon looks livid.

"Excuse me?"

"Captain Tauriel was under special instructions from myself. She did not  _abandon_ her post. She was following orders."

"And what orders were those?" Lord Haewon practically spits.

"That," Thranduil drawls, "is restricted information, reserved only for select members of our guard. Military movements, as you will recall, are handled solely at my discretion."

She can't believe what she's hearing.

"Thank you, your Majesty," one of the other council members chimes up. "I think we have all of the information we need to reach a decision."

Thranduil bows his head and steps down from the platform as the council members lean in to deliberate.

He walks over and stands beside Tauriel, surveying the hall, still not looking at her.

The crowd is the loudest they've been all day, everyone leaning over to discuss the new revelations with their neighbors.

She can't believe what the King has given her.

Not only has he almost undoubtedly assured her innocent verdict, and prevented her from being charged as a deserter, but he made his statement…  _his lie…_  public. It will spread like wildfire and by the end of the day, no one will think of her as a traitor anymore.

"I don't know—" she starts, glancing over at him, to thank him, but he silences her.

"Not here," he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. "Meet me in the garden tonight."

Before she can agree, he wanders away, pacing as the council comes to their decision.

"Captain Tauriel," Lord Haewon calls, shushing the hall.

Tauriel takes her place back on the wooden platform, and faces the council.

"Due to the overwhelming amount of evidence and testimony," he says, unable to fully hide his sneer, "the council has no choice but to declare you innocent by way of self-defense. You are free to go. Guards, you may remove her restraints."

Her chest swells in relief as the manacles are removed from her wrists. She didn't fully realize how scared she was until the verdict had been announced.

Much to her surprise, as she is being led back out of the court hall, the crowd is cheering her on, and calling their support. The King's testimony seems to have made all the difference.

Tauriel can't wait to thank him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! I'd love to know what you think!


	9. A Bargain is Struck

Outside of the court hall, Arodeth is waiting for Tauriel, bobbing up and down trying to see past the crowd of onlookers.

"I'm so sorry for everything you've been through," someone tells Tauriel with a bow.

"If you need anything don't hesitate to ask," says another she vaguely recognizes.

"Uh, thank you. I appreciate your support," Tauriel mumbles, looking for an escape.

Like a ram, Arodeth comes pushing through the crowd, entwining her arm with Tauriel's.

"Thank you everyone, but the Captain really needs her rest," the maid says with as much authority as she can manage.

Slowly, the crowd begins to thin and disperse enough for Arodeth to lead Tauriel through it and away.

"That was extremely uncomfortable," Tauriel complains.

"You're a celebrity! Well, even moreso than before," Arodeth tells her. "You already were for being the youngest captain ever, but  _now_ … youngest captain ever, assigned secret special missions from the king, taking on the council,  _and_ there seemed to be a conspiracy plot against your life. Quite thrilling to gossip about."

"Not quite as thrilling to live."

"Oh, now, everything is fine. That's behind you now, and you can focus on the future."

"Whatever that means," Tauriel sighs.

Despite it seeming like the worst is behind her, Tauriel has a sinking feeling that there is more yet to come.

She wants to begin training immediately to build her strength back up, but after not getting any rest last night she knows she should wait. So, instead of heading to the training pitch, she allows Arodeth to lead her to her bedchambers.

Pausing in the doorway, Tauriel finds everything in her room is exactly as it was before her attack with no signs of what happened.

"Is everything alright?" Arodeth asks, peeking over her shoulder. "I didn't miss anything did I?"

"No, no, it looks fine, thank you."

Tauriel enters the room and approaches her desk. Both daggers are back in place, and she traces her finger over the hilt of one, thinking how close she came to losing her life the other night.

Though she had briefly thought death might be favorable to her grief, she now knows that she truly wants to live.

_As long as I live I can still help people._

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished, actually," Tauriel replies, turning to face her maid, "but I'm rather tired. I think I'm going to rest a bit, and then I'll just take a large supper."

"Of course."

Arodeth bows her head and begins backing towards the door, but pauses suddenly.

"You know," she says, "it seemed like Lord Haewon was trying very hard to paint to in a negative light."

"I noticed," Tauriel agrees with a humorless laugh.

"It's just… he seemed to have a lot of information on you, I'm wondering why he didn't bring up that bit about you drawing your bow on the King."

"Well—" Tauriel pauses, "that is a good question."

"Probably nothing," Arodeth sighs. "I'll be back later with your supper."

Her 'thank you' comes out a little too late, as Tauriel ponders the maid's observation.

Shaking her head, Tauriel throws herself onto her bed, luxuriating in the softness. The feather mattress is heaven after her wooden pallet, but she feels a strange pang when she thinks about her impromptu nightshirt pillow, still balled up in her cell.

Pushing all thoughts away, Tauriel rolls onto her stomach and lets her weariness carry her off. Underneath her pillow her hand is tucked away, clenching the small dagger the King gave to her, ready in case of another intruder.

X

_A King's word is his honor… and yet I have lied to my entire kingdom._

Thranduil does not regret saving Tauriel from prosecution, but he can't help wondering what kind of a king it makes him, holding no shame for his actions.

He's also beginning to think he hasn't paid enough attention to his government in the wake of the battle. Thranduil will admit he's been a bit preoccupied lately, first with the monument, then with Tauriel's declining health, and always wondering where Legolas is and if he is all right. It seems while he has been distracted, Lord Haewon has grown bolder.

That unpleasant little man has always been a bit of an overreacher, grasping for power that is not his to take, but if today were any indication it seems Haewon has been pushing even more lately.

Thranduil did not miss the pointed questions about Tauriel and his bedchamber.

_The nerve of that man! There is nothing like… and even if there was… what business is it of…?_

He can't even think clearly on the matter. It is quite improper.

Currently, Thranduil is trying to focus on the maps spread across his desk. He is considering sending new patrols out past the kingdom borders, perhaps even aiding those surrounding them.

The recent losses have made him reconsider his stance on being so self-contained. If they had helped end the problem, before it really grew out of hand, there might have been fewer casualties for everyone.

_Knock. Knock._

"Enter," Thranduil commands.

"My King."

Glancing up Thranduil sees it is his most senior Captain of the Guard, Dagon. He's bowing, his brown hair hanging in a curtain, hiding his face.

"I'm not quite finished sorting the new patrols, Captain. I will have them to you and your men shortly.

"Of course, your Majesty, thank you. However, that is not why I came."

"Oh?" Thranduil asks, studying the man in front of him. "What is it that brings you here then? Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, is there?" Dagon asks, sounding cross.

"Beg pardon?"

"There is rumor all over the kingdom that during the Battle of Erebor you sent Tauriel on some sort of secret mission."

"That is correct," Thranduil lies. "What of it?"

"Well, your majesty, it's just that I have served you for many centuries. I have protected this kingdom and everyone in it. I have helped plan countless assaults and defenses, and I can't understand why now you would choose to leave me out of the loop on this."

"Captain—"

"I know this is out of line," Dagon continues, staring at the ground, "as it is ultimately up to you with whom you share classified information, but this is something I needed to know. I figure I lost two good men over this, maybe Erwarth and Langon were a bit hot headed, but they are both gone now because I was not informed of what was really going on. Had I been, perhaps this could have been avoided."

Having hoped he could put this lie behind him and never think about it again, Thranduil finds himself very uncomfortable. Dagon is a good soldier, and a good man, and Thranduil knows he takes the actions of his men personal.

"No, you are right," Thranduil finally replies with a sigh. "You should have been informed, if not beforehand, since it happened rather quickly, than after the fact so it could be understood why Captain Tauriel seemed to be going without punishment. I am sorry. I won't allow such an oversight to happen again."

"Thank you, your majesty. That is all I ask."

"I'll have the new patrol routes ready for your men by morning."

With that Dagon takes the cue and bows before dismissing himself, leaving Thranduil with his troubled thoughts.

At dusk, Thranduil rolls up all of the map parchments and summons Nimmon to have them delivered.

Once that is settled he slips out of his office and heads for the garden, not sure how early Tauriel will show up.

It's empty when he arrives, and he paces back and forth by the pond's edge, watching one by one as the evening stars appear reflecting in the water.

The peace he usually finds among his flowers does not find him tonight, and he once more finds himself plagued by reminiscence.

"I used to come up here all the time with Legolas when he was a child," Thranduil says, hearing soft footsteps approaching. "He had terrible nightmares after— after he lost his mother. We both did."

He still remembers those early days with perfect crystalline clarity, when the pain was so prominent. When he could still taste ashes in his mouth and smell sulfur with every breath.

"Legolas would creep into my room late at night, always to find me already awake. We would come up here, spread out a thick blanket, and lie back to watch the stars. Minutes felt like hours, waiting for the dawn light to wash over us and clear the fog of our nightmares. To pass the time we would rename the stars after heroes we made up, each earning their place in sky with foolish and ridiculous exploits, until our sides hurt from laughter."

He smiles sadly, still staring into the pond.

"I find it difficult to imagine you taking part in something so frivolous," Tauriel says, from behind him.

"Some people bring out the unexpected in us," Thranduil replies, finally turning to face her.

She's standing just a couple feet away, hands clasped behind her back, and staring at him with a look that breaks his battered heart.

It isn't pity she wears, which he would loathe, but a look of true empathy that reflects his own losses back at him. Tauriel knows what he's been through, because she has been there herself.

In that moment an understanding falls over them, hanging so heavily in the air it is almost tangible.

"I—I don't think I can ever thank you," she says, after a long pause, "for what you did today."

Tauriel reaches out as if to touch him, but freezes, letting her hand fall back to her side.

Thranduil doesn't know how to reply, so he just nods stiffly and tries to change the topic.

"I don't think this is truly over," he says. "I think you were right about this being more than just two random attacks. While I have no proof, my intuition is telling me there is something going on, and I suspect Lord Haewon to be involved."

"What should we do?"

"Remain watchful."

"So do nothing?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"As I said, we have no proof. Even as King I cannot go throwing council members in the dungeons for merely annoying me. Oh, how peaceful life would be," Thranduil says wistfully, eliciting a small smile from Tauriel.

Thranduil turns away to sit beside the pond, and she follows sitting beside him with only a slight hesitation.

"I'm going to begin training again tomorrow," she tells him, after a long stretch of silence.

"Are you sure you're ready? You haven't allowed yourself much time to regain your strength."

"I won't regain my strength until I push myself. The other night I thought I was going to die. I felt powerless… weak. I never wish to feel that way again."

"We'll be lucky to have you back. The new patrols will need your experience," Thranduil insists.

"What new patrols?"

"The ones I initiated today, that stretch out past our borders. A wise Captain once spoke to me of seeking out evil at its source. I've just recently come to appreciate the wisdom of her words."

Looking over, Thranduil finds Tauriel beaming broadly at him.

"Really?"

He nods.

Tauriel throws her arms around him unexpectedly, and places a kiss on his cheek. Energy crackles between them where her lips brush his skin, and from the way she pulls back Thranduil knows she felt it too.

"I—uh… I should get to bed," she stumbles, cheeks blossoming red. "T-training in the morning. I need the rest."

"Yes, of course," he replies, unable to meet her eyes.

Thranduil doesn't look up again until he hears the garden gate close, and his hand comes up to trace his fingers over where she kissed him.

X

Tauriel gets up the next morning before dawn, wishing to get to the training pitch before anyone else. That way she can evaluate her skills without being a public spectacle.

She is nervous to see how much she has let herself slip, but as soon as she puts on her light leather armor a calm settles over her.

The top is a bit loose, so Tauriel just cinches it tighter, refusing to let it get to her. Today is about starting her journey back to health.

_Kili would be proud_ , she thinks, feeling both sadness and determination.

After leaving a note for Arodeth, telling her not to worry, Tauriel heads outside. She is pleased to find that she is indeed the first person there.

She stretches thoroughly, working to loosen tight muscles. Then she heads straight for the obstacle training course.

It is a winding path, littered with traps, hurdles, and practice targets. The goal is to make it through in as little time as possible.

Taking a deep breath Tauriel crouches at the starting line, her bow in her hand and quiver on her back.

Launching forward she begins counting in her head as she skips over the first trap; a trip wire.

_Six. Seven. Eight._

There's a broken tree blocking her path and she jumps over it, though her landing is less than graceful and she almost rolls her ankle. She keeps pushing forward.

_Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four._

She snags a trip wire, sending a rock falling from the tree in front of her, swinging from a rope. Tauriel drops to the ground with a loud grunt and manages to miss being hit, but it costs her time.

_Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven._

A target springs from a bush on her left and she quickly draws an arrow. Her arm muscles quiver in protest as she draws back her bowstring, but she manages to fire and is only slightly off her mark.

_Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty._

Tauriel continues on, urging herself forward. Even after her foot catches a root and sends her into a bramble bush, she doesn't quit, just swears to set the bush on fire later and pulls herself up.

When she finishes the course she is muddy, covered in scratches, and out of breath. She's also about two minutes slower than her best time.

Growling in frustration she throws her bow to the ground.

"It's going to require time and patience to get back to yourself," someone says.

Tauriel spins around, feeling embarrassed by her outburst.

Sitting off to the edge of the pitch is Arradon, Lord Haewon's son. He's stretched out across the grass, papers spread before him. He seems to be using the early dawn light to write.

"I didn't realize anyone else was here yet," she says. "Forgive me."

"Don't trouble yourself about it," he insists, waving her worry away.

"What do you mean about me getting back to myself?"

"Oh, I… sorry, my big mouth. I heard my father talking about your… situation… in the weeks after the battle."

"My situation?"

"About how you were not eating," Arradon say, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh."

"I wasn't trying to pass judgment on you. I was just speaking from experience. Well, not quite the same experience. I tried to quit the guard once, several hundred years ago. I made it about a month before my father convinced me to come back. Then, when I did come back, I was terrible."

Against her better judgment, Tauriel walks over and plops down into the grass beside Arradon.

"Your body is like a musical instrument," he continues. "You have to keep practicing for your optimum performance. If you don't practice for a while, it's going to take a bit to get back in the swing of things. But, also like when you learn a musical instrument, you develop muscle memory. You just have to remind yourself you know what you're doing and everything will fall into place. It took me twice as long to get back into shape as it took me to fall  _out_ of shape."

Tauriel nods thoughtfully, considering his words, and glances down at the papers in front of him. It's sheet music. It looks like he's composing his own piece.

"You really like music, don't you?" she asks.

"That's why I left," he admits.

"Why do you stay?"

"My father. He… it would cause a rift in my family. He says that perhaps one day, after reaching glory, I can retire from the guard and focus on something else. Like he did."

"You are a very talented warrior," Tauriel compliments. "If you are that talented doing something you don't like, I would love to hear you doing something you are passionate about."

She taps the papers in front of him.

"I don't have a lot of free time to practice. That's why I come out here so early."

Inspiration strikes, and Tauriel has an idea.

"How about we make a deal?" she asks.

"What kind of a deal?"

"You join me here every morning, before anyone else arrives, and help me train. In exchange I'll speak with the King to see if he might consider showcasing your music at the next full moon banquet. Then everyone will know where your true talents lie, and if the whole kingdom is bragging about you, your father will hardly be able to say you are wasting your time."

"You've never even heard my music," Arradon argues. "Why would you do this for me?"

"Like I said, I can't imagine how talented you must be at something you are passionate about. Call it a leap of faith. Besides, my motives are a bit selfish. I am in desperate need of a sparring partner to retrain with so I don't make a fool out of myself when I rejoin the guard… and you've already been witness to my currently abysmal skills."

_And the King said "remain watchful", what better way than to get close to Lord Haewon's son._

"Alright," Arradon beams, holding out his hand. "Deal!"

A tendril of guilt snakes into her gut as she shakes his hand, and she has to look away from the thrilled glint on his green eyes.

"When do you want to start?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I have to say I am absolutely thrilled at how much the fandom for this ship seems to be growing! I'm seeing so much amazing artwork, and wonderful oneshots! Keep it up!

As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviews, I sincerely appreciate them, and read every single one, even if I don't always reply. (I do try to respond to direct questions, so long as it isn't asking for spoilers). Please let me know what you think of this chapter!


	10. Muscles and Music

Tauriel begins training with Arradon the very next morning. The pair meets in the early hours before dawn while the rest of the kingdom sleeps.

Placing her bow by her feet, Tauriel begins her stretching routine.

"You won't be needing that today," Arradon says, nodding towards her weapon.

"Beg pardon?"

"Your bow. We won't be using that today."

"Swords then?" she asks.

"No weapons," he corrects, joining her in stretching.

"How am I to run the course without weapons?"

"You're not ready for the course, you displayed that yesterday."

Tauriel's arms drop limply to her sides, and she angles to face him.

"How am I to improve if I don't challenge myself?"

To her increasing annoyance, Arradon laughs at her. She's beginning to wonder if she made the right choice in striking a bargain with the man.

"The problem is you aren't ready for the challenge. You need to build your strength and stamina back up. So, no weapons yet. Today is about rebuilding. Today is about  _running._ "

"What—?"

Before she can get her question out, Arradon shoots off in a full speed sprint away from her.

"Come on!" he calls over his shoulder, and she reluctantly follows.

They run lap after lap around the training pitch, and Tauriel grows weary much sooner than she knows she should. She can't match Arradon's pace even in the beginning, and by the end of her strength he's practically lapping her.

When she can take no more, Tauriel stops and hunches over, resting her hands on her knees and panting. Arradon, half a track ahead of her, finishes his lap before stopping beside her.

"I think… I'm going to… be sick," she pants.

He laughs.

 _I'm really going to hate that laugh before long_ , she thinks glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

This only makes him laugh more.

"Are you quite finished?" he asks, when her breathing finally slows.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Good. Drop and give me push-ups."

She groans but does as he says, and he drops beside her. Arradon's form is perfect and he shows no signs of strain as he again surpasses her attempts at exercise.

"How many?" she asks.

"As many as you possibly can."

Tauriel bites her tongue from making a smart remark, but the smirk he shoots her suggests he knows what she was thinking.

After that they move on to sit-ups, and then back to more running. By the time dawn begins to spread its fingers overhead, Tauriel feels as if she's been in another battle for her life.

"How are you doing?" Arradon asks as they exit the pitch.

"Oh, you know. I'm doing okay," she tries to shrug, but winces instead. "You might have to carry me to my quarters, but other than that—"

"See you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yes," she says.

 _If I don't die_ …

He's chuckling as he walks away and Tauriel can't help but shake her head.

They spend a full week and a half working on rebuilding her stamina before Arradon will even consider starting on weapons. The first few days this really irritates Tauriel, she  _is_ the youngest captain ever, after all. She got the job for a reason. She isn't some elfling wishing to play with ada's weapons as if they are toys.

Soon though, she realizes she  _isn't_ ready. She can't even run properly on her own, how could she manage it while weighted down with weapons? Her arms still quiver while doing push-ups, how can she draw her bowstring and hold position, waiting for the moment to fire?

She momentarily wonders how Arradon could want to leave the guard when he is clearly so skilled, but then Tauriel realizes she is verging on agreeing with Lord Haewon about something and quickly dismisses the thought.

_Arradon should do what makes him happy._

At the end of her third week of training, she almost feels like herself again.

"I think you'll be ready to rejoin the guard by the next full moon," Arradon tells her after a morning of target practice and dodging objects he was throwing at her.

"Really?"

"You did outrun me this morning."

She smiles proudly.

"I'll speak to the King about your music," Tauriel insists.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you. I finally feel like…  _me_ again. Well, almost me."

"Glad to help. Maybe something good came out of me joining the guard after all."

"Arradon?" she asks, shyly. "Did you tell your father you have been training with me?"

This is the first time she's brought up Lord Haewon. Though she had originally intended to pump Arradon for information, she could never bring herself to do it. For one, it was clear the two don't exactly get along, and another, it felt  _wrong_.

Arradon is so very different from his father, and he has helped her so much, it felt like a betrayal to use him in that way.

"No, I didn't," he says.

"Why not?"

"Well, at first it was because I thought he would interfere with our deal, but after spending more time with you… I thought he might somehow try to use the information against you," he admits. "He's not very fond of you."

"I've noticed," she drawls. "Thank you. I— it means a lot to me."

"See you tomorrow?"

Tauriel smiles and nods, and Arradon bows to her before heading on his way.

Back in her bedchamber, Arodeth is waiting for Tauriel with a hot bath drawn to help ease her aching muscles.

"You are sent from above," Tauriel tells her with a happy sigh as she sinks into the steaming tub.

The fresh smell of flower blossoms wafts through the air, courtesy of the scented oils in the water.

She places a warm, wet, cloth over eyes and relaxes her head on the edge of the tub.

The last few weeks she's been spending all her time while not training, hidden away in her room, either reading, or passing the time with Arodeth.

She hasn't wanted to be seen out and about and have people questioning why she wasn't back at work. Perhaps this way they'll just assume she's working on something important rather than viewing her as weak.

During this self-imposed isolation, Tauriel has seen no one aside from Arradon and Arodeth, including the King.

_Now I must ask him for a favor, after he has already done so much for me._

Thinking of her last encounter with the King, Tauriel can't banish the embarrassment that flares in her stomach. She doesn't know why she kissed him. Granted, it was only on the cheek, but that still screams intimacy among the elves.

She tries to blame it on her time spent with Bard's daughters. Mortals are so…  _affectionate._

Every time the girls would come across someone else they knew, who they thought had perished in the fire, the girls would throw their arms around them, sometimes kissing cheeks.

 _Yes, that's what it was,_  she insists, ignoring the nagging feeling in her chest.

She decides to seek him out in the garden, hoping he will be there tonight.

Tauriel doesn't want to go to the King's study. That would make this a formal visit, one in which she couldn't request privacy if advisors were in the room. And her request is not a formal one, but a personal one.

She passes the day as she has her others recently, though there is much more pacing than reading today.

As the sun slips away Tauriel makes her way to the garden.

It's empty when she gets there, save for the chirps of insects hidden among the flowers. She settles onto the bench beside the pond, prepared to wait all night if she must.

She yawns loudly, wishing she had taken a nap earlier. Tauriel shakes her head, banishing sleepy thoughts from her mind.

Or trying to at least…

 

X

 

Thranduil hasn't been able to focus in days. His informants have gleaned that Lord Haewon is cultivating his network. He's doing favors for well-connected families all over the kingdom, earning favor in return.

If it were anyone else, Thranduil would say they were only being nice out of the kindness in their hearts, but Haewon does nothing unless it can somehow help him in return.

_If only I knew what he was planning!_

Thranduil shoves his dinner plate away, almost untouched, which only turns his mind to Tauriel.

He hasn't seen her in weeks. Not since she told him she was going to begin training again. Not since she kissed his cheek.

Absentmindedly his hand wanders to his face and he traces his fingers over the spot her lips brushed against him.

He doesn't know why he expects her to keep in close contact. It is probably for the best they distance themselves after the trial.

After all, all he ever wanted was to ensure she wouldn't let herself fade in her grief. Now that it is clear she is well on the road to recovery his interest should pass.

_Yet it hasn't._

He's been visiting the garden every night, something he has not done since Legolas was little.

Thranduil tells himself to stop, not to go tonight, and instead focus on more important matters at hand. Like the roaming bands of orcs stalking through the forests, displaced after most of their company died.

He resists.

 _Almost_.

He journeys to the garden much later than usual, and tonight he finds he is not alone.

He can hear Tauriel's voice as soon as he steps through the gate, and at first thinks she must be talking to herself, but her tone is frightened.

Rushing over to the pond, Thranduil finds Tauriel asleep on the bench, muttering fearfully.

"Tauriel," he says softly, resting an arm on her shoulder.

She doesn't wake, only mutters louder.

"Please," she begs, "please no."

"It's only a nightmare. Wake up."

He shakes her shoulder gently, and when that doesn't work he tries a little harder.

"No, no, no," she whimpers.

He sees tearstains glistening on her cheeks, and kneels beside her, pleading with her to wake up.

Her cries only grow louder, and finally Thranduil can bear it no longer. He carefully lifts her from the bench and lays her on the ground beside him, resting her head in his lap.

He wipes the tears from her cheeks, and begins to sing a soft lullaby.

" _Quildë írima, alnîr_

_Este sin, holya hensta_

_Morna taië munta tó caurë_

_Nauva berialyë, illumë har_

_Hush, lovely, do not cry_

_Rest now, close your eyes_

_In darkness there is naught to fear_

I will protect you, always near"

Her cries grow softer, until they fade completely. She still trembles so he continues to hum to her, gently stroking her hair until she calms.

Her features soften and the troubled mask she wears begins to fade.

Thranduil knows he should wake her now that the nightmare has passed, but she looks so peaceful he can hardly bring himself to do it.

So much trouble and heartbreak has plagued her recently, it is a welcome change to see her so serene.

"Kili," she breaths, and he fights back his distaste. "My Ki… my King."

Thranduil stiffens, wondering if he misheard.

He waits a few moments, but when she doesn't speak again, he decides he must wake her.

"Tauriel," he calls. "Wake up."

She jerks awake suddenly, blinking up at him in confusion as he leans over her.

"My King?"

She sits up abruptly, looking around trying to gather her bearings.

"What happened?"

"You were sleeping when I arrived," he explained. "You were having a nightmare and I couldn't wake you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, please forgive me," she apologizes. "I came out here to talk to you, and must have drifted off while waiting. I've been training again, and it's been quite exhausting, and—"

"No need to apologize, please," he insists. "What did you wish to talk about?"

Thranduil pulls himself up onto the bench and offers Tauriel a helping hand where she still sits on the ground. She accepts it gratefully, and he tugs her up to sit beside him.

"Well," she begins, hands knotting the fabric of her dress in her lap, "I needed to ask you a favor. Which I know is terribly rude considering all you have already—"

"What is this favor?"

She explains to him the deal she struck with Lord Haewon's son, Arradon, and he listens intently. Tauriel tells him about the rift between father and son, and how at first she thought she could use Arradon for information, but now she just wishes to help him.

"You are no spy," he says, hiding his smirk.

She glares at him.

"I mean that as a compliment. Spies are tricky, sneaky, ne'er-do-wells who deal in lies and deceit. You are an honest woman, Tauriel; never afraid to speak your mind or to speak for what you believe is right."

"Thank you," she whispers.

"I'll do it. Arradon's music will be showcased next week at the Feast of Isilmë. Send him to speak with the royal musicians."

"Really?" she beams.

Thranduil nods, relishing in her happiness.

"Wait," she starts, smile slipping. "If you do this, it's only going to infuriate Lord Haewon. He'll see it as a betrayal."

"Well, perhaps it is time for him to taste some of his own medicine."

Thranduil had already thought about Haewon's displeasure as soon as she mentioned the familial rift. He hopes it will drive Haewon into action, giving him the opportunity to see what the councilman is really up to.

Tauriel yawns beside him, and tries to hide it.

"You  _are_  exhausted, aren't you?"

"Yes," she laughs, "Arradon has really been wearing me out."

Thranduil ignores the prickle at the back of his mind from the ease in which the other man's name falls from her lips.

"You should retire for the night. Let me walk you to your chambers," he offers.

"Oh, that isn't necessary."

"I insist."

"Um, thank you."

The halls are deserted at this late hour, and their journey is uninterrupted. They walk in comfortable silence, each shooting glances at the other out of the corner of their eyes when they think it won't be noticed.

He leaves her at her door with a quiet goodnight and a bow, each step as he walks away feeling heavier than the last.

 

X

 

Tauriel climbs into bed with an odd fluttering in her chest. Something that feels vaguely familiar, and yet altogether foreign at the same time.

As she drifts off her mind plays her a lullaby, sung in a voice that makes her sure she must have imagined it.

The next morning Tauriel is bobbing with excitement when she meets Arradon on the training pitch. He's still a good twenty feet away from her when she spills the good news.

"He said yes!" she bursts, bounding over to him. "The King, he said yes. He's going to showcase your music at the Feast of Isilmë next week!"

"No!" he says, disbelieving.

"Yes!"

Arradon runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in shock.

"Come with me," he says after a moment, holding out his hand.

"What about training?" she asks.

"You could use a break. Please?"

Tauriel takes his hand and follows him.

Arradon leads her through hallway after hallway until they come to rest outside of an area she's never been before.

When he opens the door and she follows him through, Tauriel stares around in awe. There are hundreds upon hundreds of musical instruments lining the walls.

"This is the hall of music," Arradon explains. "It's open to the public, but few ever use it. All of these instruments are available to anyone to play. This is where I taught myself when father would not aid my thirst for knowledge."

"It's beautiful."

"I want to play for you," he explains. "I haven't shared my music with anyone for hundreds of years, and I want you to be the first."

"Arradon," Tauriel sighs, "that is so kind. I would love to hear you play."

He walks to the furthest wall removing an instrument from its mount; a violin.

He strikes a few notes and then pauses to turn the knobs on the neck, tuning the instrument.

When he next begins to play, Tauriel has trouble finding her breath.

The melody he strums is so beautiful, and haunting. It feels as if he is pulling each note from her very soul.

She stands mesmerized, rooted to the spot, until his final note fades. Only then does she realize she is once again crying.

He lowers the instrument slowly, staring at her imploringly, but refusing to ask the question he desperately needs answered.

"Oh, Arradon," she breaths, "that was exquisite. I—I just…"

Tauriel can't find the words. Instead she falls back on what the mortals taught her and she crosses the room to wrap her arms around him.

He laughs nervously, and pats her on the back after a slight pause.

Neither are aware of eyes watching them from the doorway.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As always, thank you so much for your support, I love hearing from you! The Elvish in the lullaby is probably a very terrible translation, so I apologize, and yes I know it only rhymes in English, but oh well... I wanted to make make the next feast some sort of canon holiday or celebration (as this should be taking place somewhere in January, as Durin's Day falls in November), but the Elvish Calendar is strange and very difficult for me to decipher, sooo yeah. Hope you are okay with totally bogus celebrations!  

Isilmë - Moonlight 


	11. The Feast of Isilmë

Thranduil had only wished to see how Tauriel's training was going.

He knew she and Arradon were meeting in the early hours of the morning to practice without anyone watching, and so he got there early to watch.

Only, instead of practicing the pair wandered off holding hands. The distrust Thranduil feels for Lord Haewon was enough to force him to follow them… to ensure Tauriel's safety of course.

_Why else would I follow them?_

He stayed a distance behind them, remaining out of sight. At one point he even lost sight of them after they rounded a corner. It was the haunting music that led him to them.

Thranduil stood in the hallway, out of sight, but angled to see into the hall of music.

He was entranced.

Not just by the eerie melody vibrating through his bones, but by Tauriel. She stood sideways in front of the door, and Thranduil could not take his eyes off of her profile.

She was clutching her chest with a look of awe on her face, and her lips were parted with a sigh. The light behind her made her flame colored hair blaze like the setting sun.

_Such beauty._

When the echo of the last note fades, Thranduil blinks his daze away, trying to ignore the rising pressure in his chest.

When Tauriel throws herself at Arradon, the pressure in Thranduil's chest turns to fire and he must force himself to remain silent.

He turns and marches away, wondering why he ever agreed to let Haewon's dreadful offspring provide the music for his next feast.

X

The next day when Tauriel arrives at the training pitch, Arradon is already waiting for her.

"What's the plan for today?" she asks. "Can I run the course yet?"

"I thought today we could do some sparring, after our warm-up run."

"Sparring sounds fun, but I must admit I'm rather tired of running laps. Not physically, I mean. It's just boring."

"Really?" Arradon says, laughing. "Alright, how about something new? I'm going to place this medallion over there by the gate. You have to get there, pick it up, and run it to the other side of the pitch."

He pulls a necklace from the inside of his shirt and takes it off, holding up a medallion pendant.

"That's it?"

"You have to do it without getting caught."

Arradon jogs across the pitch to the wooden gate and hangs the necklace from it, then returns to stand beside her.

"I'll give you a three second head start," he says, nodding to her. "Go!"

Smirk on her face, Tauriel speeds off, racing for the gate. Behind her she hears Arradon counting, and when he hits three she pushes herself faster.

She has no problem reaching the necklace, but when she scoops it up and turns to double back she finds her obstacle. Arradon isn't racing towards her… he is slowly pacing back and forth in front of her. He knows she has to come back and is just waiting for her next move.

Tauriel runs just above half speed, heading for his left. When she gets close she ups her pace and dives to his right instead, just managing to sidestep him.

"Ha!" she cries, sprinting as fast as she can for the other side of the pitch.

Her goal is just feet away from her, and thinking she's in the clear Tauriel looks back over her shoulder.

This is a mistake.

It costs her time, and it's just enough for Arradon to make a dive for her legs. He tackles her to the ground holding her legs, and she tries to wiggle free.

"I've still got it!" she taunts, waving the medallion.

"Not for long!"

Arradon makes a grab for it while still trying to hold her legs with one arm, but Tauriel only laughs and holds her arm up above her head.

"Training hard I see."

Both Arradon and Tauriel twist to see who is speaking, finding King Thranduil standing over them.

Arradon quickly releases Tauriel's legs and jumps to his feet.

"Your majesty," he says, bowing.

Seeing Tauriel still on the ground, Arradon offers her a hand and pulls her to her feet.

"My King. What brings you out here so early?" she asks.

The King barely looks at her and Tauriel feels like a child who has just been caught sneaking extra sweets from the kitchens.

"I knew to find you out here. Arradon, I thought it might be a good idea for you to use the remaining mornings before the feast to meet with the royal musicians," Thranduil says.

"I—I would love to," Arradon insists, "but I did promise Tauriel I would help her train."

"Oh, no," Tauriel says, turning to place her hand on his arm, "you should go. It's important. I can manage on my own."

"I promised, though. I wouldn't feel right leaving you on your own."

"No, really—"

"I can help her," Thranduil interrupts. "I could use a good spar."

Both Arradon and Tauriel turn to stare at him in unison, shocked.

"I couldn't ask that of you, my King," Tauriel says, bowing her head.

"You did not. I offered. Will that be suitable for both of you?" he asks.

"Is it all right with you?" Arradon asks, turning back to Tauriel.

He won't say it, and Tauriel knows if she asked he would stay, but Arradon wants this so badly she of course agrees.

"Yes, it's fine. You go prepare your music. I can't wait to hear more of it."

"Excellent!" Arradon exclaims. "Thank you, both of you."

He bows once more to the King and turns away.

"Oh!" Tauriel exclaims. "Your medallion."

She hands it back to Arradon and he gives her a cheeky grin, and leans in to whisper in her ear.

"I win."

She playfully punches his arm, but can't help but laugh.

"Are we going to spar, or are you going to stand there mooning all morning?" Thranduil asks after Arradon exits the gate.

"Mooning?"

"Grab your sword."

Tauriel doesn't have time to wonder what it is he meant before they are both armed and facing off.

They use blunted training swords, and the weight feels all wrong in her hands. She's so used to her own blades that this foreign weapon makes her feel like a fledging recruit.

The King counts off their start and then comes at her much harder than she anticipates, knocking her back almost immediately. Tauriel manages to stay on her feet, but she's been put on the defense and is finding it hard to block his continuous blow after blow.

Not long into their first round her sword is sent flying from her hands, and she has the blunted point of the King's sword to her throat.

Thranduil stoops to pick it up and tosses it to her.

"Again," he says, charging in.

There has never been any question that the King is the best swordsman in the entire kingdom, so Tauriel expects him to be a challenge. What she didn't expect was for him to come at her with everything he's got.

Barely thirty seconds pass before her weapon is again knocked from her hand.

"Again."

"I thought this was training?" She asks, panting.

"Oh, is that what you do out here?" he asks coolly.

"What does that mean?"

"Only that whatever you were doing when I arrived hardly looked like training."

She stares at him in confusion, wondering why he sounds so upset.

"Well we were. It was… sort of a version of capture the banner. We were—" she pauses, wondering why she's explaining herself. "What does it matter?"

"It doesn't," he answers quickly.

"Fine. Shall we train then, or not?"

Tauriel finds herself feeling fed up with the King's swift mood changes. First he shows so much concern for her wellbeing after the battle, but then he all but ignores her at the memorial. Next, he lies to the entire kingdom for her, and just two nights ago he cradled her in his lap to ease her nightmares, yet today he is cold fury.

She has no idea what is sending him from one extreme to the other, but at the moment she doesn't care.

_I am not some tamed beast he can take his anger out on, only to then offer a kind word and a pat on the head to earn my forgiveness._

Retrieving her sword from the dirt, Tauriel takes her fighting stance with steely determination.

This time neither of them counts off.

The King makes the first move, lunging forward, but Tauriel is ready and easily sidesteps him. She spins and makes a counterstrike, but he's too fast and brings his blade up to block her.

Sparks fly as their blades scrape down one another with a metallic clang, and Tauriel takes the offensive.

All of her anger and frustrations at Thranduil's mood swings pour from her heart, down her arm, and into her blade. Her strikes are fast and strong, but he blocks them as if swatting a fly.

He bares his teeth in a snarl as he advances on her, and she ducks a hit that comes awfully close to her head.

Tauriel aims a feinted shot to his right and when he moves to block her, she jumps launching herself at his left.

She grabs his arm and swings her legs through the air, twisting to wrap them up and around his neck. Tauriel is sitting on Thranduil's shoulders and tries to bring her sword arcing downward to land the winning blow, but Thranduil is too fast for her.

He once again blocks her, sending her own sword flying from her grasp. Using the hand not gripping his sword he grabs ahold of Tauriel and tries to pulls her loose from his shoulders to toss her to the ground.

As she comes loose, Tauriel swiftly turns and twists, locking her legs around Thranduil's waist.

The both tumble to the ground, landing on their sides, but the King is quick to roll and pin Tauriel.

His blunted blade is placed to her throat and she stares up into his piercing blue eyes, panting.

The ground is cold and hard beneath her back, but honestly she is barely aware of that or the cool steel pressed to her throat. All she can feel is the heat radiating from the large torso pressing into her.

Tauriel is hyper-aware of every breath he's taking, and the way his eyes are ever so slowly softening.

"Tauriel," he says, voice gentle and soft as a whisper.

_Here he goes, swinging the other way…_

_No. I can't do this again today._

Tauriel's hand slips into her belt and pulls free the dagger the King gave her. She presses it to his side, not hard enough to cut him, but firm enough he knows what it is.

"Point to me," she says, interrupting whatever he was about to say.

The softness in his eyes vanishes and the shield is back in place.

Thranduil rolls off of her and jumps to his feet, regarding her coolly once more.

"Thank you, my King," she says, bowing, "for humoring me. I think I am done training for today. Do not worry yourself about helping me the rest of the week, I'll be focusing on the obstacle course."

"It was my pleasure," he replies, "and if you do change your mind about wanting help, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," she repeats, then turns away, leaving the King standing alone on the practice pitch, clutching his blunted sword.

When Tauriel arrives back at her room Arodeth is there, waiting for her, with breakfast.

"Tough training day?" Arodeth asks when Tauriel throws herself onto the bed in a huff.

"That man is  _infuriating!_ "

"What did Lord Arradon do? I thought you were fond of him?"

"No, not Arradon," Tauriel corrects, "the King!"

"You've been to see the King this morning?"

Arodeth brings her a glass of water, and perches on the edge of the bed.

"No, he came to send Arradon off to prepare his music, and then tried to take over my training. I thought it would be a nice opportunity, considering how great a warrior he is, but it was hardly a training session at all!" Tauriel rants. "First he accuses me of mooning over Arradon, and then he attacks me with everything he has! Of course then he almost has one of his sweeping mood changes and I could tell he was about to say something kind, but I wasn't having it. What is his problem?"

She sighs, exasperated, and sits up to take the glass of water from Arodeth. She sips at it, sincerely wishing for something a bit stronger.

Tauriel waits for Arodeth to say something, but the maid keeps her mouth closed, giving her a knowing look before standing up.

"What?" Tauriel asks. "What do you know?"

"I know nothing, my Lady."

"Don't 'my Lady' me, you know better than that. What does that look mean."

"What look?" Arodeth asks, turning away.

"Arodeth! Please, I'm going to end up aiming another arrow at his face."

The maid sighs, and turns back to face her.

"He accused you of mooning over Arradon, and then he took his anger out on you in training?"

"Yes," Tauriel says.

Arodeth gives her a pointed look.

"What? You're not… implying he— he was  _jealous?_ "

The maid doesn't respond, just purses her lips and looks away.

"No! That's— that's preposterous! Why would he be? It's not as if he thinks of me… in that way." Tauriel shakes her head. "No."

"Of course, my Lady," Arodeth says airily. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I mean it! That's  _not_  what's going on."

Arodeth only nods, wearing a look that clearly says she disagrees, and excuses herself before Tauriel can deny it again.

_Preposterous,_  she thinks.  _He was probably upset because he wants me to rejoin the guard and thought I was slacking off._

_Yes. Much more likely._

Every morning the rest of the week, Tauriel gets up early and still takes to the training pitch. As she told Thranduil, she focuses on the obstacle course.

Her first run through is a little sloppy, but nowhere near as bad as her first try back a month ago. Her time is nearly back to what it was before her momentary health decline.

By the end of the week, much to Tauriel's pleasure, she even manages to shave another twenty seconds off of her best time on the course.

When she finishes that final run through, her breathing barely affected by the exercise, she's surprised to hear applause.

Tauriel looks around to find the culprit, and finds Arradon watching her.

"Much, much better than that sorry excuse for a run I saw the day we struck our bargain," he says.

"Oh yes. I'm back on top," she says, smiling. "Thanks to you."

"No, it was all you. You did the work."

"Yes, but you helped. I was so overwhelmed when I began, you helped keep me focused."

"Perhaps I did," he shrugs. "In that case, would you permit me a favor?"

"Perhaps."

"Would you attend the Feast of Isilmë with me?" Arradon asks.

"Oh," Tauriel bites her lip.

She doesn't want to give Arradon the wrong impression, but she doesn't particularly want to go on her own either. And he is rather sweet, and makes her laugh.

"I would love to," she insists.

_He's my friend,_  she thinks,  _and he knows that. That is all this is._

"Really? Excellent, thank you!" he exclaims. "I'm very nervous about tonight, and aside from the musicians I've been working with, you're the only one who's heard my music recently. I'd feel much better facing tonight with a friend."

They make arrangements for Arradon to meet Tauriel at her chambers just before the start of the feast, and he hurries off to finish last minute preparations with the musicians.

X

Thranduil waits until the party is well underway before making his appearance. The crowd parts respectfully as he enters, people bowing as he walks by.

Waiters throughout the hall are offering refreshments, and the wine is flowing freely. People are smiling and genuinely enjoying themselves. It's a much more lighthearted atmosphere than the last event, Thranduil notes, and he is glad that joy is again finding his people.

The music, he begrudgingly notices, is beautiful. It's very different from what they normally feature, but everyone seems to be enjoying it. The center of the hall is filled with dancing couples, twirling intricately to the lilting melody.

Thranduil grabs a goblet of wine from a passing waiter and sips it with a satisfied smirk. He's known for his parties, and this one looks like another hit.

"Beautiful music tonight, my Lord."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he replies, looking to find the councilwoman, Lady Neleth, by his side.

Tonight she has her golden hair swept back from her face, and she wears a purple gown of silk.

"There is a rumor going around that it is the work of Lord Haewon's son, Arradon," she comments, her dark eyes studying him closely.

"I can confirm the truth of that. Arradon is a talented young man. He is wasted in the guard."

"Lord Haewon is livid."

"Well, he will just have to learn to let his son pursue what makes him happy. It is a sad truth all fathers must face," Thranduil adds, mind drifting momentarily to Legolas. "If music is Arradon's passion, so be it."

"Oh, no," Neleth says, "not the music. That's far from his primary concern tonight. He's much more upset with Arradon's…  _other_ pursuits."

She gestures out into the center of the hall, towards the dancing couples.

Thranduil looks, searching for her meaning.

When his gaze locks onto Arradon, his eyes narrow and he feels his jaw clench. The boy has his arms firmly locked around Tauriel. They are spinning gracefully through the other couples, smiling and laughing.

Thranduil can't take his eyes off of her.

Tonight Tauriel is dressed in sweeping gown of navy velvet, studded in diamonds. It looks as if it was crafted from the night sky, and she is bedecked in stars. Her hair, normally pulled back in braids, hangs free tonight in long waves.

As Thranduil watches, Arradon pulls Tauriel close and then dips her low, earning another laugh from her.

"Imagine the scandal if they married," says Lady Neleth, also watching the pair. "I mean they are ideally suited to one another. Tauriel's respected place among the guard makes her more than a match for him, but Lord Haewon's dislike for the poor girl is well known. People would never stop talking about it."

Thranduil takes a deep drink of his wine.

"They're only dancing," he scoffs.

"Yes, but they've been dancing all night, and don't they look… familiar with one another?"

He grits his teeth once again and mumbles some excuse before slipping away, wanting to hear no more of Lady Neleth's musings.

Mingling through the crowd, Thranduil makes small talk with several people, smiling and laughing as necessary, but he always keeps the dance floor in sight.

He notices he's not the only one studying the pair; on the far side of the room, draining glass after glass, Lord Haewon is watching as well with a dark look on his face.

Finally, after watching Arradon whisper into Tauriel's ear, and her pull back with a smile and flushed cheeks, Thranduil can't take it anymore.

He cuts through the crowd, heading straight for them.

Tauriel is the first to see him, and the smile slips from her face.

"My King," she says, bowing, and Arradon follows suit.

"Tonight seems to be a great success," Thranduil says. "People can't stop talking about your music."

"Thank you, my King. I owe it to you for giving me this chance."

"How would you like another?" Thranduil asks. "I think you should perform a piece yourself."

"I—I— really?" Arradon asks, beaming.

"Attention!" Thranduil calls, and slowly the hall falls to silence, all eyes turning to him. "I would like to a moment to bring attention to the man responsible for tonight's entertainment."

He grabs Arradon's elbow and pulls him next to him.

"Lord Arradon has shown an amazing talent for the arts, and great talent deserves great recognition. Let us now show our appreciation, and beg to hear one of his own performances!"

The crowd erupts in applause and cheering, and Arradon turns bright red, offering a bow. He nods his head in agreement, and moves to join the musicians.

The tune they strike is slow and eerie, yet beautiful nonetheless. Slowly couples return to dancing, holding each other close and intimately.

Thranduil turns back towards Tauriel, who is staring at the ground.

"Would you… care to dance?" he asks.

She looks up, surprised.

"Or," he says, leaning closer, "if you prefer you can speak with Lord Haewon. He's headed our way right now."

A quick glance over her shoulder and Tauriel sees the angry, stumbling Lord.

"I would love to dance," she replies.

Thranduil offers her his hand and leads her onto the floor.

He doesn't think this should lead to much gossip; he does dance quite often at these gatherings, taking turns with the women of the council or even sometimes choosing someone at random from the crowd.

He places a hand on her waist, ignoring the tingle in his fingers as he does so, and they slip into the familiar twirling motions, moving to the slow tune of the song.

X

Tauriel can feel the eyes on them, following their movements, but that slowly begins to fade.

The song's languid pace begins to speed up, and she feels as she did the other day, as if each note is being pulled from her soul.

The King's eyes are locked with hers, and the faster the songs speeds up the closer they become. The hall slips away until all that is left is the music, the fingers on her hips, and Thranduil's haunting eyes.

The music begins to swell and he spins her grandly, pulling her back in and dipping her low. He holds her there, staring into her eyes, and Tauriel can't help but glance at his lips, only a few breaths away, and wonder if perhaps he  _was_ jealous that day on the pitch.

Thoughts of the pitch bring forth thoughts of Arradon, which pulls her back to the present. She realizes, horrified, that the music has ended and whispers have begun.

"My King?" she whispers

Thranduil blinks and seems to come back to himself. He stands tall and pulls her up with him. Then releasing her he gestures towards the musicians and begins to clap.

The rest of the crowd follows his lead, but Tauriel can still see them staring and whispering to one another.

Feeling overwhelmed, she slips into the crowd and heads for the exit.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It's getting harder for our pair to ignore their chemistry! Please let me know what you think!


	12. Confrontations

Tauriel weaves through the crowd, acutely aware of all the looks she's getting and the whispers following her.

While not entirely sure what exactly  _that_  was out on the dance floor, she does know it drew a lot of unwanted attention.

Once outside the great hall, she pauses, trying to steady her nerves.

In the heat of battle she can be as cold and hard as steel, but when it comes to social intricacies she finds herself outside of her comfort zone.

"I never expected you two to be so careless," says a haughty voice from behind her. "You may as well have pledged yourself to one another right then and there."

Recognizing the voice, Tauriel doesn't feel threatened, just annoyed.

"Good evening, Lord Haewon," she forces, as he paces out in front of her. "I'm not sure I know what you are referring to."

"Really?" he questions. "Everyone is already talking about it."

"Is there something you actually wanted, or are you going to stand here all night speaking of things you know nothing about? I know that is your specialty."

"To the point then… stay away from my son."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," Haewon growls. "Stay away from my son!"

Tauriel feels her temper rising.

"I am getting extremely tired of aristocratic old men telling me who I can and cannot spend my time with!" she exclaims. "I will do as I please, thank you very much."

She attempts to step around him, but the councilman blocks her path.

"Haven't you done enough damage?" he asks. "First, you use your connection to the King to steal rank from Arradon, and now you are going to push him out of the Guard all together?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't steal rank from anyone! And I certainly didn't use some made up connection to get it!"

"I have it on good authority that my son was to be promoted to Captain, and then out of nowhere some little nobody Silvan slattern gets the position instead!"

Tauriel balks at his slur.

"How dare you—"

"How dare I what? Tell the truth? Admit it! You used Prince Legolas to get closer to the King and get your position! Then cast Legolas aside when he was of no further use. I bet your "special mission" was that dwarf you were making doe-eyes at. What? Did King Thranduil send you to seduce the lost jewels out of him?"

She doesn't even know where to begin. Tauriel has no idea what jewels he is talking about, and the rest of it is so preposterous it leaves her blanking to find adequate insults.

"It's a shame he went and got himself killed, your dwarf," the councilman continues. "It was probably better for him, though, imagine the embarrassment he would have suffered when you betrayed him."

Tauriel is saved from responding when Arradon springs from behind her and punches Lord Haewon in the jaw. She gasps and grabs Arradon's shoulder when he makes another move to attack.

"No," she protests, "don't! He's not worth it!"

Arradon turns to her and there is an anger in his usually kind eyes that she's never seen before.

"He should not have said those things to you!" he spits.

"Son," Lord Haewon starts, pausing to spit a mouthful of blood, "are you really going to let this lowborn hussy come between us?"

Growling, Arradon makes another lunge for his father, but Tauriel pulls him back.

"Please, don't," she pleads. "Let's just go."

"Just so you know," Arradon says, glaring at Lord Haewon, "I  _was_  offered a Captain's position. I turned it down. This was never my dream. It was yours."

Tauriel pushes her shock aside and leads Arradon away, leaving the stunned and bloodied councilman all alone.

"I'll walk you to your room," Arradon tells her as they round the corner.

"You didn't have to do that," she says.

"Somebody needed to. He has gotten away with his lies and slander for far too long. He needs to know there are consequences."

"Well, thank you."

He just grunts and nods in response.

"What you said to him," Tauriel starts, "about turning down a promotion? When was that?"

"Probably just before you received yours. I guess that explains why my father seems to hate you. Sorry about that."

"Don't be. I guess if anything I should thank you. If you hadn't turned down the position, I may never have been made Captain."

"I wouldn't say that. Prince Legolas was lobbying pretty hard for you to get the position. I saw you train once, back when you first joined the guard, and you had so much passion for it. You were made for it."

An almost overwhelming wave of longing washes over Tauriel. She misses Legolas. She misses the days when things were simple between them, fun and competitive. Back before he believed himself in love with her.

He had been her best teacher, and her closest friend.

She wants to clear the air with Arradon, to make it perfectly clear she only wishes to be friends, but she doesn't know how to approach the topic without sounding like a narcissist. Instead she remains quiet.

When they get to her room, Arradon opens the door for her and she gets a look at his hand. Gasping she grabs it and looks at his bruised knuckles.

"You should put something on this," she suggests, gently prodding the area and checking for fractures.

He winces, but shrugs.

"It'll be fine. You should get some rest, though. Aren't you returning to work tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm terrified to face everyone. Will you be there?"

"In the morning," he says. "I have to tender my resignation."

"You're leaving? I—I mean that's great for you."

She plasters on a smile, and the look on his face says he can see right through it. It isn't that she's not happy for him, she wants him to follow his dream, but she'll be on her own now.

"You'll do great. How about we do dinner next week to discuss our progress, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agrees, this time smiling for real.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

Arradon and Tauriel both turn to find Arodeth standing there, having just come around the corner.

"Arradon, this is my friend, Arodeth," Tauriel introduces.

"Pleasure to meet you, my Lady," Arradon smirks, offering her a bow.

"And you… Sir," Arodeth breathes.

"Well, I should be on my way," he tells them. "Good evening, ladies."

"Oh, my," Arodeth mumbles, following Tauriel into her room. "You never mentioned how handsome he was."

"I guess I didn't notice," Tauriel shrugs. "What brings you here so late?"

"Hmm?"

Arodeth is staring down the hallway.

She blushes when she sees Tauriel watching her, and closes the door.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to see if you needed anything," the maid says, entirely unconvincing.

"What did you hear?" Tauriel demands, fearing Lord Haewon was right and the rumor mill is spinning already.

"Nothing. Why, should I have?"

"Um, no. It's just… why are you really here?"

"I wanted to check on you," Arodeth sighs. "I know how legendary King Thranduil's parties are, and it's just that you've been sober for over a month now. I would hate to see you backslide."

Tauriel is both embarrassed, and touched. She regrets ever being so weak as to dull her senses to escape, but she can't help but be thankful she has someone looking out for her.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"What is it you thought I heard?"

"I'd rather not discuss it right now," Tauriel apologizes. "I'm a little overwhelmed, and could really use some sleep."

"Of course, just let me know if you need anything."

After Arodeth leaves, Tauriel strips and climbs into bed. More than anything she'd love to visit the garden and sit in the night air, but she fears it would do little to clear her mind. She also doesn't want to risk running into the King tonight. Not after whatever  _that_  was on the dance floor.

Burying her face in her pillow, she tries to banish all thoughts and fall asleep, but her mind won't stop buzzing.

_Are people really talking about what happened? Or was Haewon just trying to get a rise out of me?_

_Has he really been after me just because he thought I stole his son's promotion?_

_What a lunatic!_

_There has to be more to the story than that…_

_Was the King really jealous the other day? Do I want him to be jealous? Does it make me a bad person for even considering it?_

_What about Kili?_

_How many people know about Kili? How many now think he was a mission?_

Over and over, questions she doesn't have answers to bounce back and forth. It feels like hours before pure exhaustion finally claims her.

Arodeth returns in the morning with a big breakfast to wake her. Tauriel hates the idea of getting out of bed, but the sudden realization that today is  _the_ day she rejoins the guard sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

It's enough to get her up, dressed, and picking over breakfast.

"Good luck today!" Arodeth wishes her as Tauriel walks out the door.

X

After Tauriel fled, Thranduil had wanted to go after her, but he feared he had made enough of a scene already.

Instead he tried to ease the possible gossip by dancing with as many women as possible. A few he even danced with multiple times. Lady Neleth, for instance, had been particularly clingy. He'd had a hard time shaking the woman without being rude.

What nobody knew was that his numerous partners all had one thing in common: the way he compared them all to Tauriel in his mind as they danced.

More accurately, he tallied up the ways they didn't compare.

Thranduil came to the sudden, and horrifying, conclusion that he may be developing some sort of  _attraction_ to his Captain.

He had rebelled from the thought at first, but the more he attempted to ignore it, the more persistent it got.

When he finally retired for the night, and was left with nothing but his thoughts, he tried to come up with a logical reason behind these new feelings.

He argued that having rescued her when she was young, he's always felt a bit protective. Now, after she has suffered the loss of a (would be) lover, he probably feels closer to her because of the shared experience. Thranduil concludes that those two factors when combined with her concern for Legolas must add up to his sudden interest.

_That's all. Nothing more. It will pass._

However, the next day when Thranduil finds himself in his council room face to face with Tauriel, all logical reasons evaporate and he's left marveling at the shade of her hair in the torchlight.

"Your Majesty?"

Dagon, his most senior Captain of the Guard, is trying to get his attention.

"Hmm? Oh yes, what were you saying?" Thranduil asks, wanting to kick himself for looking like a fool.

"I was inquiring as to where you would like me to put Captain Tauriel now that she has returned to duty? I would have placed her myself, but since I still do not have full knowledge of her duties, I wouldn't want to misplace her."

_Someone is still mad about being left out of the loop on the made up special mission_ , Thranduil thinks, not missing Dagon's snarky tone.

Tauriel is standing a couple feet behind the older Captain, hands clasped behind her back and staring at the ground. She looks tired, and refuses to meet his gaze.

"Place her in charge of one of the new expanded patrols," Thranduil commands.

_Now she looks at me._

There is excitement in her eyes, and he can tell she is fighting a smile.

"As you wish, your Majesty," Dagon concedes.

"I'd like a full debrief tonight. Inform all patrol leaders to be present at dusk."

Since they began expanding their watch on the surrounding area, things have gotten a bit more perilous than the norm.

There have been an abnormal amount of spider nests discovered, the creatures are spreading like a plague. Then there has been the issue of the Orcs left from the battle, usually found roaming in groups of four or five.

They aren't difficult to dispatch in those numbers. Thranduil is thankful of their volatile nature, it's what keeps the numbers so low. If they attempt to travel in any larger groups, the Orcs usually end up killing one another off while struggling for power.

Dagon says he will pass on news of the meeting, and he and Tauriel excuse themselves to begin their duties.

On her way out Tauriel briefly pauses in the doorway to look back at him. She looks as if she has something to say, but she doesn't speak and soon leaves him on his own.

_Be careful,_  he thinks as she walks away.

A few hours later, while going over the new trading roster for King Bard, Thranduil receives another visitor. This time one much less welcome.

"You cannot allow this!" Lord Haewon complains, throwing the door open as he barges through.

There is a guard trailing him, looking uneasy, as if unsure whether he should haul the councilman away or not. Thranduil shakes his head no and the guard retreats to just outside the room.

"Lord Haewon," the King drawls, taking not of the other man's split lip, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My son resigned from the Guard this morning!"

"I am well aware."

"You must stop this! Do not accept his resignation, he is confused," Haewon argues.

"He did not seem confused when I spoke to him."

"You've already seen him?"

"Yes. When I heard of his resignation I thought he might need a new job. So I offered him a place among the court musicians."

"You… what?" the councilman's face is turning a vivid shade of red.

Thranduil does not respond, instead trying to return his attention to the papers spread before him.

"He— he assaulted me! Last night, during the feast. I want him punished!"

At this, Thranduil can no longer hold his temper. He stands from his desk and approaches Lord Haewon, sneering angrily.

"I am well aware of that as well," the King discloses, tone clipped. "Arradon admitted to me his crime when we spoke. He also told me why he did it."

The councilman tries to keep his head held high, but he can't hide the sudden apprehension in his eyes.

"Be grateful it is only your lip that is split," Thranduil tells him. "Had I been there,  _it would be your head."_

Lord Haewon swallows audibly, but does not move as Thranduil returns to his seat, and calls for the guard waiting outside.

"Please see the councilman out," he commands.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is probably the shortest in a while, but it was a difficult one to write. This is probably my third rewrite of it, honestly. I know there isn't very much interaction between our favorite pair, but I'll make up for it soon ;)

Hoping to have the next (longer) chapter up by Sunday!


	13. Spiders

The wind breezing through the leaves is brisk, but refreshing, and Tauriel closes her eyes while inhaling deeply.

_I've missed this_ , she thinks.  _The open woods, the fresh air… the feeling of freedom that comes when you step outside the kingdom gates._

Despite the forest being dangerous and sickly, no longer the lush green paradise of the past, it is as Tauriel has always known it, and she considers it part of  _home._

"This way," she whispers, hearing the cracking of a branch off in the distance.

She signals the other members of her patrol, and they start out, stealthily weaving through the twisted roots and branches.

It was a lot easier than she was anticipating going back to work and taking charge.

There are four soldiers in addition to herself in Tauriel's new patrol: Grond, Echtel, Magol, and Thanben. She's vaguely familiar of them in the fact that she's worked with them before on occasion, but she wouldn't go as far as saying she really  _knows_ them.

Thanben and Magol are twins, identical in their dark hair and eyes. Brother and sister born into a family that has always served as soldiers for the kingdom. They are much older than Tauriel, but like her they are orphans. Their father died in battle over a thousand years ago, and their mother wasted away from her loss.

From just observing them during this first patrol, Tauriel can already see they have a close bond. The brother, Thanben, rarely speaks, yet somehow Magol knows exactly what he wants or needs and she communicates for him.

Echtel, Tauriel suspects, will drive her insane before their first week together is done. He's a bit of card, always cracking jokes or making snarky comments. Which, in general she would not mind, but when they are trying to navigate silently through the overgrown underbrush it is a different story.

She had wanted to risk giving their position away by backhanding him after he made some remark about Ents dying out because "all the ladies need a good hedge trimming." The fact that he has the exact same shade of hair as Legolas does nothing to ease her annoyance.

Then there is Grond.

_He is quite peculiar,_ she must admit.

To begin with, he is probably the largest elf Tauriel has ever seen. Not height wise, though he is tall, but his width and bulk. Grond is strangely muscular for an elf. Then there is the fact that he doesn't wear his sandy brown hair in braids, or down at all for that matter. He wears it up in a messy bun.

Despite his size, and overall gruff appearance, Grond is a quiet speaker. His soft completely non-intimidating voice seems so strange coming out of his mouth. That is when he  _actually_  speaks. He's not as quiet as Thanben, but he still rarely interacts with the other members of the group.

Suddenly there is another loud cracking noise just beyond the next copse of trees. Tauriel holds her hand up and draws the company to a halt, listening.

They are trying to track a trail back to a suspected spider nest, just outside the normal patrol borders. As much as she had wanted to set out immediately to explore the new areas open to her, Tauriel decided to do the logical thing and slowly work on expanding outward, clearing threats as they go.

The prominent sound of pincers clacking makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, but it drives Echtel into action.

He darts past her, ignoring Tauriel's halt, and dives through the thicket of branches in front of them.

Growling in frustration, but unable to let him mount an attack alone, Tauriel signals the remaining three to join Echtel.

They charge forward to find six spiders awaiting them in a small, web coated, clearing.

The company divides, each tackling their own spider, while simultaneously trying to avoid getting stuck in the sticky web.

Tauriel dispatches her spider easily enough, driving her blade into the beast's maw when it hisses at her. Turning around she finds her patrol members are all handling themselves effectively.

All except for Echtel.

He misstepped and his foot is caught in the web. The sixth and last remaining spider is descending on him while he remains completely unaware.

Sighing, Tauriel draws her bow and lets an arrow fly. It soars right over Echtel's shoulder pulling his attention to the beast just as it collapses next to him.

"Thanks," he says, tossing her a wink.

"What were you thinking?" she demands, marching across the clearing towards him.

"What?"

"You disobeyed my order and foolishly charged in!"

"And we handled it. What's the big deal?" he shrugs, still attempting to free his foot.

"The big deal? How about the fact that we were tracking those spiders back to the nest!"

Instead of responding, Echtel just gestures the clearing.

"Take a look around!" Tauriel tells him, waving her arms. "This is not a nest. It is a food cache.  _A trap._  This was a rest stop along their way back to the  _actual_ nest. You've possibly cost us another day or two. Now we'll have to find another trail, because they certainly won't use this one again."

"Alright, I'm sorry," he apologizes, not looking at all concerned.

"Disobey a direct order again and you'll be off my patrol and stuck in the palace guarding the King's wine cellar."

_Mistakes will not be tolerated,_  she rationalizes to herself.  _Mistakes get people killed._

"Captain, over here."

It's Grond, calling her to the opposite side of the clearing.

"I think I found another path leading away from here, different from the one we followed in," he says.

"Good work," she praises, patting his shoulder. "Let's move out."

"Can I get some help over here?" Echtel calls, pointing to his web covered foot.

"Figure it out yourself," Tauriel says, turning away, "that's what you prefer anyway."

They press on, with Grond leading the way as the most experienced tracker.

The air around them grows colder as the light begins to dim, and Tauriel knows they should turn back soon, but a stubborn part of her doesn't want to return on her first day back with nothing to show but a half dozen dead spiders.

If the others have any concerns about calling it a day, they keep it them to themselves, focusing only on moving forward.

Dusk is upon them when they finally find something, though its is something none of them could anticipate.

"Oh my," Tauriel whispers, looking around in shock.

X

"Someone is missing," Thranduil states, scanning his council room.

"It's Tauriel, your Majesty," Dagon tells him. "Her patrol hasn't yet returned."

Of course he knew Tauriel was the one missing, however Thranduil was trying to pass off his worry as casually as possible.

"Let's continue without her," he says. "I'll deal with her tardiness later. Dagon, any news from your rounds?"

"We found some Orc tracks cutting through the western corner of the kingdom. They traveled on our land for about two leagues before cutting back over the western border. I estimate a group of five, maybe six."

Thranduil frowns and makes a note, then spreads out a map and has Dagon mark his findings.

"Captain Liel?" the King asks the woman to Dagon's left. "What did you find?"

"Nothing, your Majesty. My patrol rechecked the recently cleared nests to be sure no spiders moved back in, and we found them still deserted."

"Good, good," he says, making another note.

They continue on, going around the room in order, all the guards relaying their findings. Most have found nothing new, or out of the ordinary, and Thranduil starts to hope the worst is behind them.

A few mention finding rogue spiders here and there, and only one other person found any signs of orcs.

The most troubling aspect of the evening is that at no point during the meeting does Tauriel arrive.

Thranduil tries to ignore the niggling sense something is wrong, and pushes aside the urge to send out a search party.

_She probably got carried away with her new freedom outside the normal patrol borders._

After everyone has a chance to discuss their patrols, Thranduil thanks them for their hard work and dedication before dismissing them.

He holds Dagon back to strategize any changes they may want to make to the paths they patrol. About ten minutes into their revisions Tauriel bursts into the room, wide-eyed and short of breathe.

"Forgive my lateness, my King," she asks, giving a small bow.

"I'll leave you two alone," Dagon offers, clearly biting his tongue.

"No, Captain," Tauriel says, holding up her hand to stop him. "You'll want to hear this."

"Go on," Thranduil encourages, looking her over for signs of injury and reassuring himself she looks fine.

"My patrol and I spent the day tracking a spider's nest just over the border. One of my soldiers got a little eager and attacked the spiders we  _were_ tracking—"

"Echtel," Captain Dagon supplies, and Tauriel nods.

"Indeed," she says, annoyed. "We were however able to pick up the trail and it led us to the largest spider nest I have ever seen. There were a hundred of them at least… most likely more."

"We should send you back out with reinforcements first thing tomorrow morning," Thranduil suggests. "I'm assuming you didn't attempt to take out a nest that size with just five of you."

"That's the thing, my King. They were already dead."

Thranduil frowns, positive he must have misheard her.

"Dead? Hundreds of spiders, outside the border… dead?"

Dagon looks just as surprised as he feels, and moves to look over the map they had been marking.

"None of our groups have been that far," the Captain says, tracing a finger over the map, "and certainly someone would have mentioned taking out that large of a nest."

"It wasn't us," Tauriel tells them. "It was Orcs. I found this."

She holds out her hand and Thranduil approaches her to inspect the small shard resting on her palm.

He wraps his fingers around her wrist to hold her hand steady as he inspects the item, and hears her sharp intake of breath at his touch. When he glances up to meet her gaze she looks away.

"It's a broken arrowhead," he says. "Definitely of Orcish origin."

"Orcs?" Dagon asks. "To kill that many spiders… that would have to be an unprecedented group of survivors. Could you tell how many?"

"No, the tracks were too muddled from the fighting," Tauriel answers.

"Show me where this was on the map," Thranduil requests.

She hesitates, and Thranduil realizes he's still holding Tauriel's wrist. Feeling sheepish he releases her.

Tauriel takes them through everything she saw and noticed, marking the map as she goes.

When she finishes all three fall into silence.

"A group large enough to do that kind of damage can only mean one thing," Dagon whispers.

"The Orcs have a new leader," Thranduil finishes.

X

Shortly after the new revelation, Captain Dagon excuses himself. He leaves to go double the night patrols, wanting security upped as much as possible with an enormous band of Orcs potentially on their doorstep.

Tauriel is left alone with Thranduil, and tries to find a way to take her leave. Until she figures out what is going on inside of her own mind, she's not sure she should be around the King on her own.

"I… I should—"

"Tauriel," Thranduil interrupts, "please allow me to apologize for last night. I did not wish to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm not sure what came over me."

"No need to apologize, my King. I've pushed the whole incident from my mind," she lies.

"I heard about what happened in the hall last night."

She grimaces, hoping he won't have to punish Arradon.

"Arradon told me about the terrible things Lord Haewon said to you. I'm so sorry."

"That's not your fault," Tauriel insists. "He's a cruel, hateful, man."

"Nevertheless—"

"He did mention something I didn't understand," she interrupts, her curiosity getting the best of her. "He mentioned something about  _lost jewels_ … and suggested you, um, sent me to get them from the dwarves."

He turns away from her, but just before he does Tauriel swears she sees a flash of pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to answer."

"They belonged to my late wife," he says, voice soft and head bowed.

_Leave it… just leave it…_

"How did the dwarves come into possession of them?"

_Was that really necessary?_ she asks herself.

"I gave them to the dwarves," Thranduil tells her, turning back to face her once more. "She was wearing them, white gems of pure starlight, when she died. The jewels survived, though the setting did not. I sent them to Erebor to be reset."

"And then the dragon came and took the mountain?"

"Smaug came later. Thrór summoned me when the necklace was completed; it was only when I arrived and he showed me the piece that he named his price. In exchange for crafting the necklace he demanded to keep it as payment for his work."

Tauriel's heart swells in sympathy.

"That is terrible. How could he do that?"

"It was the dragon sickness, he was already taken by it by then. It was not long after that the dragon came."

"And the jewels were lost to you," she says sadly.

"Until now. The halfling, Bilbo, returned them to me."

Thranduil reaches a hand inside his robe and pulls out the most stunning necklace she has ever seen. The gems seem to be pulsing, giving off their own light.

"Beautiful," Tauriel murmurs, in total awe.

"Yes," he says simply, but when she finally looks up at him, and away from the jewels, she sees the King is not staring at the necklace.

Her stomach flips, but it isn't an entirely unpleasant sensation.

_Knock knock._

"Your Majesty," an aide opens the door and strides purposefully in.

Tauriel jumps back a few inches, feeling unexplainably guilty, and Thranduil is quick to tuck the necklace away.

"Yes, Nimmon?" he asks the aide, not taking his eyes off of Tauriel.

"Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to inform you that councilwoman Neleth is here to see you."

The King blinks slowly and sighs, looking to his aide.

"Tell her I'll be with her momentarily."

"I should be going," Tauriel says. "It was a long day, and I've got another one tomorrow, so…"

"Yes, of course. Rest yourself, eat, and be safe tomorrow."

"I will, thank you. Good evening, my King."

"Goodnight, Captain."

Tauriel lets herself out and sighs once in the hallway.

"Are you back to work then?"

Approaching her is the golden haired councilwoman who took the floor from Lord Haewon during Tauriel's trial.

"Yes," she replies. "Lady Neleth, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes. Glad to see you are feeling well. I always feel better knowing those who protect us are in the best shape."

"Thank you," Tauriel smiles politely.

"Well, I won't keep you, dear. I'm just on my way to speak with the King. We have some…  _catching up_  to do after last night," the councilwoman giggles.

It takes willpower for Tauriel to prevent her smile from turning into a sneer.

"Good evening," she says, and takes her leave, heading straight for her room.

_After last night… what does that mean?_

_Do you really care?_

_Well, no… why—why would I?_

When she gets to her bedchambers, Arodeth is there waiting for her.

"How was it? How are you? You're back much later than I was expecting? Are you hungry?" the maid pelts her with questions one after another.

"Take a breath, woman," Tauriel laughs. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet, no."

"Alright. I am going to go take a bath. Why don't you grab dinner for two and I'll tell you everything while we eat?"

Arodeth smiles and agrees, leaving Tauriel to get cleaned up. She makes it a quick bath, knowing she's in for a lot of questions and wanting to try to get more rest than she did the previous night.

Sure enough, as they eat Arodeth hardly gives Tauriel a chance to chew between answers.

She wants to know about whom Tauriel is working with, if she ran into any trouble out there, if she feels like she is fully recovered… and on and on.

Luckily, by the time they reach dessert, a glazed seed cake, Arodeth seems to have dried up her well of questions, which gives Tauriel a chance to ask a few of her own.

"Arodeth?" she starts, staring at her lap shyly. "Do you think how long you know— or knew— someone affects how much you can love them?"

"Oh, well… I think there are many different  _kinds_  of love. Love at first sight, love that is built over many years, love that exists when two souls recognize themselves in one another, and many, many others. I don't think how much you can love someone can be so trivially measured. It's something only you can know and judge."

"Is it possible to love someone, and miss them, but still find yourself yearning for another? Does that mean you don't or didn't love the first?"

Arodeth scoots across the bed, closer to Tauriel, and pulls the redhead's head down to rest on her shoulder.

"Dear, the heart is a fickle thing, often with terrible timing. Do not feel guilty for  _feeling_. Personally, I believe love is infinite, ever expanding, and there is always enough to go around."

"Thank you."

Tauriel leaves her head resting on the other woman's shoulder, grateful she has someone to talk to. She is still confused, but the guilt that had been gnawing on the edge of her mind eases a bit.

X

"Lady Neleth, how may I help you this evening?"

Thranduil is still standing in front of his desk when the councilwoman enters, and she sidles up right beside him.

"Firstly, I just wanted to tell you how much fun I had last night," she says.

"It was quite an enjoyable evening, wasn't it?"

He slips around behind his desk and takes a seat, causing her to frown.

"Secondly, the Council has received news that Lord Elrond is travelling this way. He should be arriving in Mirkwood in about two weeks time."

"Really? I wonder what brings him this way."

"I heard he's coming to speak to the King of Dale, and the new King Under the Mountain."

"Ah, yes, I suppose I should have expected that," Thranduil admits. "We should have a welcome dinner for them."

"That was another reason I came to you! I thought perhaps we could plan it… together."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. I trust your judgment, Lady Neleth. I'm sure you are more than capable to handle this on your own."

"Thank you for your confidence, my King," she tells him, sounding disappointed.

"Let me know what you come up with."

Neleth brightens back up at this.

"Yes, of course! Goodnight, your Majesty."

When she leaves, Thranduil groans loudly and decides he is really going to have to be more cautious in the future when selecting dance partners.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all the kind words on the last chapter. After having such a difficult time getting it where I wanted it, the feedback made it all worthwhile.


	14. A Traitor

In the days following the find of the dead spider nest the forest is quiet… far too quiet for Tauriel's comfort.

There are no more sightings of Orcs, or their tracks, within the kingdom boundaries. While normally that would be cause for celebration, there are no spiders either. Most think this is a good sign as well, but it makes Tauriel nervous.

She has never known the forest to be this empty, or this devoid of life. It reminds her of the calm before a summer storm, when everything grows still and silent just moments before the thunderclouds erupt and rain pours wrathfully from the sky.

Of the others in her patrol, only Grond seems to find the silence as disturbing as Tauriel.

"Something is brewing," he says quietly, glancing sideways at her. "I can feel it."

"As do I," she agrees. "I wish they did."

She nods her head in the directions of others. Echtel is pestering Magol while Thanben sits cleaning his blade, watching the two.

They've paused to regroup and decide on their next move.

Tauriel and Grond were surveying the area, looking for a sign of which way to go, when they both paused to watch a lone bird take off from the treetops.

"They will not, until it is too late," Grond says.

"Why do you think that is?"

"They do not know loss, and will remain blissfully ignorant to the danger that lies ahead."

"Magol and Thanben are orphans—"

"They do not know recent loss," he amends.

"Oh… and you?"

"My brother. He fell at Erebor."

"I didn't know. I'm so sorry for your loss," she apologizes, feeling ashamed she didn't already know.

"And I'm sorry for yours," he tells her solemnly.

Before she can respond he slips away, returning to the group. After a brief moment to compose herself, Tauriel follows.

"Alright, let's not press any further out today. We'll make a large loop and expand our patrol as we double back," she orders, gesturing them all to stand.

Echtel mumbles something about it being a waste of time, but one look from Tauriel shuts him up and he climbs to his feet.

The journey back is almost as uneventful as the journey out, until Grond throws up a signal for everyone to stop. He gestures towards a tree on their right, and Tauriel moves closer to inspect it. There is a splattering of shiny black liquid on the trunk.

_Orc blood._

There is a trail of blood leading into the brush behind the tree. Drawing her daggers, Tauriel slowly follows the trail with the others close behind her.

A heavy wheezing noise is coming from beneath some low hanging branches, and she signals Grond to pull them out of the way.

He moves quickly, pulling the obstructing branches back and giving the rest of them clear view of the bleeding Orc lying on the ground. His breathing is labored and he's clutching a wound on his stomach.

Echtel cries out and lunges forward, only to find Tauriel's blade at his throat.

"Stand down," she growls through gritted teeth.

The Orc glares up them, trying to sneer menacingly, but it's in too much pain for it be effective.

"Do it," the Orc says, blood flecking it's lips as he speaks.

"I said stand down," Tauriel repeats as Echtel bounces impatiently. "Thanben, check it for weapons and bind its hands. Magol, staunch the bleeding and bandage its wound."

The twins follow her orders quickly as Echtel scoffs and stomps back towards the trail.

"The King will want to question him," Tauriel explains.

Grond is the only one to respond, giving her an approving nod.

It takes them much longer than they should to travel back to the kingdom with the Orc hobbling along, spewing threats and curses.

The gate guards are about to scold them when they see the prisoner in tow, and instead offer to escort them.

"That won't be necessary," Tauriel tells them. "In fact, Magol, Thanben, and Echtel you are dismissed. Grond and I will handle it from here."

Both Magol and Thanben salute before departing, but Echtel only storms away.

_I'm going to have to deal with him sooner rather than later._

She and Grond take the Orc straight to throne room, finding Thranduil perched strikingly above them.

He looks down his perfectly straight nose studying the Orc before him, his eye's filled with an icy fury.

It sends a shiver down Tauriel's spine.

"Introduce our  _guest_ ," the King commands, twisting the word 'guest' into an insult.

"We discovered him during our patrol, my King. It has been badly injured, and by the looks of it another Orc is to blame," Tauriel explains.

Thranduil rises from his throne and descends down the stairs to join them, his blue cloak billowing behind him, and Tauriel wonders for the thousandth time how it doesn't trip him.

Grond pushes the Orc to its knees as the King approaches.

"What brings you so close to my lands?" Thranduil asks. "And where are the others? Your group?"

The Orc just cackles and spits blood at the King's feet.

Tauriel pulls one of her daggers out and aims the blade at its face for its disrespect.

Thranduil begins walking a slow circle around the creature, catching Tauriel's eye as he paces and shaking his head almost imperceptively. She lowers her dagger.

"How many are you?" he asks.

"More than you'd think," the Orc answers.

"It is my understanding that you have come to have a new leader. Who among you commands your allegiance?"

It doesn't reply.

"I can heal you," Thranduil offers, coming full circle in front of the Orc.

"Lies. You wouldn't. I won't leave these halls," it croaks.

"No, you misunderstand," the King corrects. "I can heal you, and then I can break you. Slowly. In ways your cruel, limited, mind cannot imagine. And then I can heal you again, and again. Answer me and I will grant you a quick death."

The Orc swallows audibly and its beady eyes dart nervously.

"Who among you commands your allegiance?"

"None."

"None? I know there are a great many of you, and I hardly believe you've developed democracy. So who?"

"None among  _us_ command our allegiance," it sputters, more blood falling from his mouth. "You should ask— ask yourself who among you betrays  _your_  allegiance."

"What does that mean?"

The Orc begins coughing and shaking. It's clear he won't be answering any more questions.

With a heavy sigh, Thranduil nods at Tauriel and she swings her blade, cutting the creature's head clean off.

She has many questions she wants to ask, but before she can begin the King holds up his hand and waves them away.

"Thank you," he says. "You are dismissed."

X

Thranduil knows he is being watched. He can feel it, feel eyes following his every move. He can't prove it though. He can't even figure out who it is that is watching him, though, he does have a pretty good guess.

He also knows Tauriel wants to talk about what the Orc told them, but he can't risk it out in the open.

Once the day has drawn to a close, and most of the kingdom is in bed, Thranduil slips from his chambers to make his way to his garden. He suspects Tauriel will be waiting for him.

Cautiously making sure he's not being followed, he first ambles through the vast halls in no particular direction. Once positive he is on his own, Thranduil makes for the garden.

As he suspected, Tauriel is waiting for him, pacing anxiously by the pond.

"Tauriel?"

She pauses her pacing and turns towards his voice.

"My King. How did I know you would be here?" she asks, then sighs, "I suppose you know me too well."

"I would wager I  _could_ know you better," he quips, only catching the implications of his words after he has spoken.

Tauriel tries to hide her smirk, and doesn't reply.

"So," he says, trying to change the subject, "what do you make of the Orc's information?"

"There is a traitor among us."

Thranduil nods and approaches the edge of pond, stopping once he is shoulder to shoulder with Tauriel.

"Is that… possible?" she asks. "That they are being led by an elf?"

"Anything is possible, as I've come to realize. It depends what they were offered, or promised."

"Who do you think it is?"

He glances sideways at her, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes," she sighs, "I suppose that is rather obvious. Lord Haewon is to blame for all of this."

"That would be my guess."

"Can't you just arrest him?"

Thranduil laughs.

"On the veiled accusations of a dying Orc? No. As I said before, I cannot move against him without solid proof."

"Then let's get some!" she exclaims. "How can you just sit back and—and let things play out? Our people are in danger!"

"Do you think I do not know that?" he asks, growing annoyed. "Do not presume to understand my choices."

"What choices? You are not doing anything!"

Thranduil turns on her, standing inches away, their chests almost touching. He can see the fire in her eyes, glinting behind the angry tears threatening to spill over.

"I can see you want to act," she continues earnestly. "Yet you will not make a move."

X

Shaking with anger, Tauriel stares up at her King, waiting for him to say something.

Instead, he catches her completely off guard by wrapping his hands around her arms and bending to kiss her.

His lips are harsh and sweet at the same time, and she freezes.

Pulling back slightly he murmurs against her lips.

"I do make some choices."

Tauriel throws her arms around him and stands on tip toes to press her lips to his. Thranduil wraps one arm around the small of her back, and his other hand comes up to cup her cheek.

It's sweeter this time… softer. She can feel a fluttering in her stomach building and Tauriel presses herself closer.

After a few seconds, or perhaps ten minutes, she isn't sure, as time has no meaning in his arms, Thranduil pulls away.

"And sometimes they are the wrong choices," he tells her, stepping out of arms reach.

The cool evening air hits her, carrying with it the sting of rejection.

Tauriel bites her lip, confusion swarming her and clouding her mind. She turns her back on him and stares at the stone pathway beneath her feet.

Thranduil's hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she forces herself not to cringe under his touch.

"I have acted rashly before," he says softly, "and it has cost me dearly."

"Your wife," she states, voice thick.

"Yes."

"What happened?" Tauriel asks, despite the fact the last thing she wants right now is to hear him speak of another woman.

"Dragon fire… and bad choices."

Thranduil seats himself on the stone bench and pats the place next to him; knowing better, she takes a seat anyway.

"News came to me of trouble at Gundabad. There were rumors of great northern serpents wreaking havoc. I did not take time to plan, instead launching an attack immediately. In the chaos, I did not realize that I had a tag-along following me into battle."

He pauses and she waits, wanting to ask questions, but forcing herself to remain quiet.

"It was Legolas. He was fifteen at the time, just beginning to explore, and wanting to be a part of everything. He snuck away following us. I didn't realize. Gilrin did, however, and she came after him. He found his way into the fray, and was cornered by a fierce fire breather. It was about to strike when… when she reached him just in time. Gilrin threw him out of the way, and suffered the full force of the beast's flames."

Tauriel gasps, covering her mouth.

"Oh, no…"

"I sliced the creature's head off and rushed to her, but it was too late, and the only thing I accomplished was throwing myself into the flames."

Tauriel has heard of his battle scar, hidden behind a glamour, but she's never seen it, and when he lets the mask fall she feels her chest ache.

Cautiously, she reaches up towards him, but she stops just before touching the damage.

"You did all you could," she says.

"No. I didn't. Had I but been a bit more cautious…"

She takes his hand and bows her head, feeling ashamed for her accusations.

"And Legolas?" she asks. "He doesn't remember?"

"No. I took the memory from him. I did not want him to feel responsible for what happened."

Suddenly everything is crystal clear to Tauriel. This is why Legolas has no memory of his mother, and why Thranduil has refused to talk about her for so many years, fearing his son would remember and feel guilty.

They sit in silence, neither knowing what to say, instead just watching the clouds overhead shifting in the breeze until they can see the stars.

"I'll keep looking," she says finally, "for proof."

Thranduil stands up, pulling her up with him, and walks to the exit.

"I know you will," he tells her.

Once they are back inside, they pause, and he looks to be at a loss for words.

"About what happened out there," he begins, not meeting her eyes, "I don't— I don't know—"

"It's okay," Tauriel interrupts, "we don't have to do this now."

He nods, looking relieved.

She gives him a small, sad smile, and stands up on tip toes once more to place a kiss on his cheek.

They say goodnight and part, neither thinking to look if they were being watched.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to get something up before I go away for the weekend. Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, and I hope you are still enjoying the story. Have a good weekend, and let me know what you think!


	15. Desires and Obligations

Tauriel returns to her room, positive she will be unable to sleep.

_He kissed me,_  she thinks dazedly,  _the King kissed me… and I kissed him back._

She doesn't know what this means for them, or even if she  _wants_ it to mean anything. Obviously some part of her enjoyed it, wanted more even, urging her to get closer.

_Then he pulled away, and brought up his long dead wife._

_Perhaps he is just lonely._

She doesn't really believe that. While, yes, he may be lonely, she doesn't think that is the only reason he kissed her. Haven't they been growing closer? Skirting the edge of this— whatever  _this_ is, for a while now?

Curling up in her bed, Tauriel decides her swirling emotions are a problem to be deciphered another day. She needs to rest if she is to find evidence of Lord Haewon's treachery.

X

In another wing of the palace, alone in his own room, Thranduil finds himself much unluckier in his search for sleep than Tauriel.

He paces back and forth, wondering what drove him to act, and if kissing her was the right thing to do.

_I know what drove me to act,_  he insists, calling himself out on the lie.

Thranduil has wanted to kiss her for a while now, even if he was hiding from that fact, trying to ignore it.

His real concern, is what will she now expect of him?

_Will she be waiting for flowers and me on bended knee pledging myself? Or does she perhaps believe I acted rashly, and she expects nothing from me?_

_Worse… what if she wants nothing from me?_

_What if she only humored me because I am her king?_

Thranduil pours himself a glass of wine, sloshing it all over his hand as he angrily snatches it up.

_No, no,_  he reassures himself,  _if she were but humoring me she would not have responded as she did._

Remembering her body pressed up against him, and the way her lips parted to grant him entrance ignites a fire in his belly and he briefly wonders why he is alone in his chambers, when he could still be on the roof with Tauriel.

Shaking his head to clear the images of soft curves, and supple flesh glowing in the moonlight, Thranduil sinks onto the edge of his bed.

_What is it that_ I  _want?_ He finally asks himself.

The answer comes to him without hesitation.

When he thinks of what he wants, his mind supplies a picture quite clearly.

_Blazing eyes filled with determination, full lips smirking at him, sure hands that are both dainty and deadly, a woman's curves combined with the toned body of a warrior, all of that topped with flaming red hair, a sarcastic wit, and the ability to bypass a King's cold exterior._

What he wants is Tauriel.

Thranduil sighs, and drinks deeply from his cup; knowing what he wants, and getting what he wants are two completely different things.

There are so many more factors involved than whether or not Tauriel wants him as well. He must consider his position, and his Kingdom. It's almost unheard of for someone of his status to—to mingle with someone of her status. That's why he warned her away from Legolas.

_Legolas,_  he thinks, groaning aloud.  _How would he react upon returning home to find me in a relationship with the very woman I warned him against?_

Thranduil gets almost no sleep, drifting in and out of fractured dreams. Some of them replaying the scene in the garden, while in others he is stalked by a shadowy figure, and try as he might he cannot see their face.

X

Tauriel doesn't return to garden the rest of the week. She finds nothing of use to incriminate Lord Haewon, and therefore feels she has nothing to report. She is also afraid that if she does go to the garden, she will be faced with a conversation she's not ready to have.

She throws herself into her work, scouring her patrol path, much to the annoyance of her fellow patrol members.

They find her pace too slow, not holding back their complaints that were she to move faster they could cover a larger area. The only one who doesn't complain, aside from Thanben (but that hardly counts as Magol does his complaining for him), is Grond.

Grond just nods in approval at her orders and sets to work. Tauriel finds herself growing to appreciate that more and more.

After a particularly long day, with nothing to show but another empty spider nest, cleared once again by Orcs, Tauriel wants nothing more than to slip into a steaming bath, and then crawl into bed.

She's just removed her boots and her leather vest when someone knocks on her door.

Tauriel hopes it is Arodeth with dinner, she's famished.

Opening the door, she sees she was half right. It is dinner, but it is Arradon carrying the platter. He must see the confusion on her face.

"Our dinner date, remember?" he says. "So we can swap stories of our first week?"

"Oh, right," she says, stepping aside to let him in. "I'm sorry, it completely slipped my mind."

Arradon walks right over to her bed and sits down, placing the platter on the bed in front of him.

Tauriel joins him, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

"Tell me all about your week," she says brightly, before grabbing a roll off the platter.

"Not much to tell, honestly."

"Oh, I doubt that! You're doing your dream job! There must be something to share. How are you enjoying it? Is it living up to your expectations?"

"No," he sighs, and then breaks into a big smile, "it's far better than I expected!"

Arradon begins to tell her all about his time among the other court musicians. All the new friends he is making, the new music he is working on, and how the King requested him to perform a piece at the welcoming banquet for Lord Elrond.

"That's wonderful!" Tauriel exclaims. "I'm so very happy for you."

"It's all thanks to you. Thank you."

"You're the one with the talent, you never needed my help."

"Even if that were true, I  _did_ have your help, and I owe you so much," he insists, reaching forward to place a hand on her knee.

She shakes her head at him.

"Now," he says, leaning back again, "let's hear about your first week back."

With a weary sigh, Tauriel launches into her own story of the week, talking much longer than she anticipates. She shares everything, from finding the dead spiders, to her feeling of hopelessness that she may not figure out what is going on, even branching into discussing the members of her patrol at length. She spends the most time complaining about Echtel, and how she's tempted to knock him over the head and leave him for the forest creatures.

"Thanben and Magol are alright, I suppose, but they still question my authority and commands. Not as often as Echtel, perhaps, but enough to be rather annoying. The only saving grace is Grond, he always seems to have my back."

"I know Grond," Arradon pipes up, "he is a good person."

"I think so too," she says, and Arradon beams at her.

"Sounds like you have had a rough week," he says.

"To say the least," Tauriel groans, rolling her neck and popping it in several places.

She lets her chin fall forward and touch her chest, eyes closing as she takes a deep breath.

The mattress dips, and suddenly there are hands on her shoulders.

Arradon is kneeling behind her, and he begins massaging her. The combination of his training as a Guard member, and his musical skills give his hands an almost magical quality. They are strong and firm, yet nimble as they knead the knots along her shoulders.

Tauriel lets out a low moan, and her eyes pop open suddenly as she fully realizes the position they are in.

She sits up straight and leans away from his touch, twisting around to face him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking genuinely confused.

"Arradon," she begins, dread blossoming in her stomach, "you're— you are a great friend, and I truly value that friendship and… I would hate for there to be any—er— misunderstandings between us."

If possible, this just makes him look more confused, so she tries again.

"I just don't want there to be any, um, confusion about the nature of our  _friendship_."

He blinks slowly, and then comprehension seems to dawn on him.

"Oh… Oh! No, no, of course not," he says. "I wouldn't— I mean to say, I know you suffered a loss, and I would never put you in that position."

Relief floods her, and Tauriel finds it easy to breath once more. She picks up a glass of water; her mouth grew very dry while trying to find the right words.

"And," he continues, "I know that there is  _something_ between you and the King, and I would hate to come between that."

The water she's drinking goes down the wrong tube, and she chokes, coughing and sputtering.

"What— what do you mean?" she asks, voice coming out as a croak.

Arradon cocks his head to one side and gives her a look that clearly says  _who do you think you're fooling_.

She purses her lips and shakes her head, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, "after what happened at the Feast of Isilmë, there is no denying there is something going on with you two. Not to mention you can't keep your eyes off one another when in the same room."

When she still won't say anything, he just laughs more and rolls his eyes at her.

"Your silence is as good as a confession."

"You— don't you— preposterous…" she stumbles.

"It's not like I'm going to tell anyone," he scoffs, and then mumbles, "not like I need to."

Her cheeks flush bright red.

When Arradon continues laughing, Tauriel reaches for one of her pillows and chucks it right at his head.

X

Thranduil has his own dinner guest tonight.

Lady Neleth, eager to discuss her plans for Lord Elrond's arrival.

She swept into his office just before dinner and asked if he would care to join her to go over the plans. Having no excuse not to, Thranduil found himself agreeing with a fake smile plastered to his face.

While they waited to be served, Lady Neleth stood beside his chair, leaning over his shoulder to point at the papers she spread before him. Each time she did so, her breasts pressed up against him, and he vaguely wonders if she is doing it on purpose.

She's been awfully friendly since they danced together at the feast.

The first course arrives, and Neleth gathers her papers, bending low over the table, her top hanging loosely.

"So, my King, have you heard from your son?" she asks, conversationally.

"Sadly, I have not," he replies, stiffening slightly. "I have faith Legolas is more than capable of taking care of himself, however."

"Of course. He is a very skilled warrior."

There is a rapping on the dining chamber door, and it opens to allow Dagon in.

He strides purposely towards them, stopping a few feet away and offering a bow to Thranduil.

"My King," he says, "I am sorry to interrupt your dinner, but all of the Captain's reports are now in, and there is one I think you will be quite interested in."

"Whose report?"

"Tauriel, my King."

"What did she find? Is she— is her patrol group alright?" Thranduil asks, sitting straighter in his chair.

Dagon looks to Lady Neleth, and then back to Thranduil, questioningly.

Thranduil just nods and waves his hand for the Captain to continue.

"They are fine, but today they discovered another cleared spider nest. This too looks like the work of Orcs."

Thranduil swears under his breath, and turns his attention to Lady Neleth.

"Forgive me, my Lady," he begs, "but I must see to these new developments. I trust your judgment to handle the rest of the welcoming details. Good evening."

He sweeps away, barely giving her a chance to stutter out her own farewell before he is in the hall with Dagon.

"Now, where did this happen?"

X

The next day Tauriel makes her way to meet up with her patrol, wondering if she'll regret everything she told Arradon the night before… because she probably told him far too much.

He was just such a good listener! Once she started to open up, it was as if she couldn't stop.

Arradon agreeing with Arodeth's statement, about the heart being a fickle thing, also made her feel better.

The guilt she feels for thinking about another when she so recently lost Kili, probably won't fade completely, but between the maid and the musician, she is starting to feel the guilt less and less.

When she reaches the front gates, Tauriel is surprised to see more than just her patrol waiting for her.

In addition to her usual four, they are joined by Captain Dagon and Thranduil.

"My King," she says, bowing and trying not to think about what happened the last time they were together. "What brings you out here today?"

"The King wishes to see the nest you found yesterday," Dagon informs her. "We want you to lead the way."

"Oh, of course," she agrees. "Are you ready to leave now?"

"We are," Thranduil tells her, finally speaking.

Their gazes lock and they stay that way perhaps too long, because Grond clears his throat loudly drawing her back.

"Uh, right. You heard them, let's move," Tauriel recovers, moving to take the lead as they set out through the open gates.

Tauriel normally feels so at ease in the woods, loving the freedom that comes with the open air, but today she is too self-conscious to relax.

Every step she takes, to her, sounds like the thundering footfall of a wounded bear. Every breath she takes seems too labored, and she can't stop second-guessing her navigation skills as they head for the nest.

It is at a fork in the path, where she changes her mind last second, recalling they must go left, rather than right, when her foot catches a root and sends her sprawling backwards.

She lands hard, though not on the ground. Arms wrap around her before she can do any real harm to herself, and when Tauriel glances over her shoulder she finds her back pressed against the King's chest.

After the slightest hesitation, he sets her right and they continue hiking on, Tauriel burning from head to toe with embarrassment.

They make it to the nest just before noon.

It looks the same as it did the day before, and the same as the one they found a week previous.

Spider bodies litter the ground, most of them missing legs and torn apart. The ground is too hard for there to be any recognizable tracks, but a few of the spiders still have spears or axes hanging from them, leaving no doubt that the Orcs are responsible.

King Thranduil takes in the scene before him in silence, and then he and Dagon make their way around, performing their own inspection.

As they already checked the area yesterday, Thanben, Magol, and Echtel all spread out on the ground to have a picnic lunch.

Tauriel bites her tongue and says nothing, while she and Grond double-check their surroundings to see if they missed anything.

They didn't.

"Nothing," Thranduil growls, having completed his own search.

Tauriel takes a long swig from her canteen, and holds it out to Thranduil.

He takes it with a nod of thanks, and takes a long drink before passing it back to her.

"We should head back," she tells them. "If we don't we may not make it before dark."

Everyone murmurs their agreement, and the lunch trio packs up their gear.

They make it less than fifty feet into the forest away from the nest, Tauriel again leading the way, when the largest spider she has ever seen drops down in front of her.

It's at least three times the size of the dead spiders back in the clearing.

Tauriel reaches over her shoulders for her daggers, but before she can draw her weapons, she is thrown to the side out of harms way.

Thranduil takes her place, drawing his own sword and charging the beast.

She can only watch from where she sits, slumped in the underbrush. Attempting to join the fight, Tauriel finds herself caught on something.

The other patrol members must have come to their senses, because they join the charge. With their help the creature is dispatched in no time, all while Tauriel is still trying to free herself.

Thranduil appears beside her, crouching over her, concern clouding his face.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hoarse.

"Yes… I'm fine… just… stuck," she tells him through gritted teeth.

"Let me help," he says, kneeling to better reach the vines tangled around her feet.

When her feet are finally free, Thranduil offers her his hand and helps her to her feet.

She's pulled to a standing position, just inches from him, and notices the way his brow furrows, just before he reaches a hand up to cup her cheek.

Her heart thuds loudly.

As if suddenly remembering they are not alone, Thranduil drops his hand and steps back away from her.

"You have a cut," he says pompously, "there on your cheek. You'll want to have that looked at."

Without another word, Thranduil turns away and begins down the path once more, leaving Tauriel standing breathless as five pairs of eyes turn from the King's back to her blushing face.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry about the long wait! With the sudden appearance of Spring, I find myself ridiculously busy! I guess hibernations is over... I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Please let me know what you think. As always reviews are greatly appreciated!

Just a little warning, I'm leaving on Tuesday to take my great grandmother on a cross country road trip to Las Vegas, so the next chapter probably won't be up until April 11th or 12th. On another note check out these wonderful drawings by The Last Victorian, inspired by this story! They are really wonderful, and very very funny!

[Arodeth ](http://thelastvictorian.tumblr.com/post/111772106983/fanart-for-beneath-the-stars-not-actually-a-scene#notes)(and Tauriel and Thranduil)

[Arradon](http://thelastvictorian.tumblr.com/post/111868754053/legolas-she-likes-shorter-guys-arrodon-but#notes)

[Tauriel and Arodeth](http://thelastvictorian.tumblr.com/post/112314224153/help-me-i-cant-unsee-tauriel-and-arodeth-as#notes)

[Thranduil and Lady Neleth at the Feast of Isilmë](http://thelastvictorian.tumblr.com/post/113062300338/starring-my-dumb-sense-of-humours-inability-to#notes)


	16. A New Approach

When they return to the safety of the palace walls, Thranduil excuses himself from the patrol group without so much as a glance in Tauriel's direction.

He can't believe how foolish he acted in front of so many witnesses.

Tauriel is a brilliant warrior, one of the best he knows, yet he couldn't help but push her from harm's way when he saw that beast threatening her.

That isn't the worst of it though. His shoving her aside could have been easily explained away. As king he doesn't get the chance to be out in the field much, and perhaps he was just looking for a bit of a challenge?

_But no,_  he rants inwardly,  _you had to make a scene._

Caressing her face, searching to see if she was all right… in front of no less than  _five_  witnesses.

" _You have a cut"… by the stars you're pathetic._

He's still shaking his head, scolding himself, when he arrives at his council room.

Unfortunately, there is someone waiting for him.

"Lord Haewon," Thranduil sighs. "How may I assist you?"

"I just came to see how you were fairing, your majesty. I heard you were attacked while patrolling beyond the borders today."

"As you can see, I am quite fine. Thank you for your inquiry, now—"

"I was wondering," the councilman interrupts, "if perhaps this incident has led you to reconsider your recent decision to expand patrol routes?"

Thranduil frowns in confusion.

"It has not," he says. "Why should it?"

"It is a dangerous world out there beyond our borders, as you've now seen. I fear that by extending our reach we are only inviting more attacks, and putting our soldiers… our  _people_ at risk."

"You've voiced these concerns before," Thranduil sighs.

"As have you," Lord Haewon counters. "Until recently, that is. What is it that has changed your mind so thoroughly?"

"The swaying advice of my soldiers."

"Perhaps you mean the swaying advice of Captain Tauriel?" the councilman smirks. "It was her idea originally, was it not?"

Thranduil straightens his back, and looks down his nose at Lord Haewon.

"It was, and it was very well thought out. The benefits outweigh the risks, as I have outlined for the Council already, if you recall? By acting first, and clearing the forces that would oppose us, before they get the opportunity to organize, we are saving lives in the long run."

"Yes, yes, of course," Haewon nods. "Well then, your majesty, I will leave you. I only wished to inquire after your health. It would be  _tragic_ if something were to happen to you."

Watching the councilman walk away through narrowed eyes, Thranduil feels a weariness settle over him. Not so much a physical tiredness, but mental exhaustion from playing these political mind games.

_Ruling never used to be this difficult,_ he muses.

When he first chose to close his people away from the lands that surround them, it was during a similar period of great strife and tragedy. His decision had been met with encouragement, and relief. He was lauded for his love of those he led.

But centuries passed, and new lives were created, grown, and nurtured. Lives and minds that did not understand loss, terror, and the danger that awaits them outside the boundaries.

These new generations only know the nightmares once faced as told through stories recited to them as elflings, snug in their beds. And while these new generations respect those before them, they also wondered if perhaps their parents and grandparents had grown soft.

_This is how dissention starts…_   _young voices eager to make names for themselves, wishing only to bring their home and family glory. Tired of the old ways, wishing to forge their own paths._

And it is Thranduil's job, as king, to listen and weigh these new ideas.

Tauriel was not the first to suggest spreading their might, and helping those around them who are in need, but she was the last.

After the terrible losses during the Battle of Erebor, Thranduil was forced to realize that had he been listening to those new voices, the forces against them might never have reached the power they did.

When Thranduil proposed this new plan of action, to go on the offensive, most had been in agreement with him. A few council members, such as Lord Haewon, had disagreed.

After he has a chance to clean himself up, Thranduil summons all of the Captains to the council room to go over new strategy.

X

After the King departs the others walking with Tauriel become less covert in hiding their stares.

Captain Dagon excuses himself to speak with the gate guards, inquiring if the other patrols have all returned yet.

Magol and Thanben won't stop watching her, and Tauriel tries not to grind her teeth. Magol is attempting to be subtle with her glances, but Thanben hides behind no such courtesies, openly gawking at her.

She's just about to snap when Magol speaks up.

"We're going to go to the armory," she says, "we're expecting some new blades."

Magol nods her goodbye quickly and breaks apart from the group, Thanben in tow, still shooting looks at Tauriel over his shoulder as he walks away.

That just leaves Tauriel, Grond, and, to her displeasure, Echtel.

Echtel, who is on her right, begins whistling cheerfully as they walk, and Tauriel gives him a long-suffering glare.

"You know," he says thoughtfully, glancing at Tauriel with a smirk, "I always pegged you as a rule breaker."

"Pardon?" she asks, knowing she'll regret it.

"Ah, you know, one of those 'spit in the face of authority' types. Guess I was wrong though."

When she doesn't respond he keeps talking.

"I mean, obviously I  _knew_ I was wrong, otherwise you'd never have made Captain," Echtel continues. "I guess I didn't realize just  _how_ wrong I was. I mean… you probably follow orders really well. For instance, when the king tells you kneel I bet you have no objection dropping to your knees."

Grond makes a disgusted sound and shifts quickly, making a move for Echtel.

Tauriel holds her hand up to stop him, and they all stop walking. She turns to Grond and gives him a look that says,  _"thank you, but no."_

When she faces Echtel, he's wearing a big satisfied grin. Tauriel responds with a humorless smile before promptly punching him in the stomach.

All the air rushes from his lungs and he drops to the ground in front of her, completely winded.

"Next time you wish to speak your filth, and spread your lies," she speaks down to him, "just remember who has  _you_  on  _your_ knees."

She turns her back on him and walks away, flexing her hand. Grond is trailing beside her, looking quite possibly the happiest she's ever seen him.

When they enter the palace, he gives her a small bow.

"Good evening, Captain," Grond wishes her, still wearing the ghost of a smirk.

"Good evening," she replies, unable to hide her own wicked smile.

"Oh, and Captain?" he says before she walks away. "Don't forget to have that cut looked at."

Grond shoots her a wink and heads off, presumably, to his own chambers.

Were it anyone else Tauriel would be offended, but the fact that it is stoic, somber, Grond teasing her, she can't suppress a small laugh.

When she gets back to her room, Tauriel finds Arodeth there, just delivering her dinner.

"You're my hero," Tauriel tells her, sitting down and immediately digging in.

"You know me," Arodeth says. "The Sorceress of Snacks. The Defender of Delicacies. I also happen to wield the, um, broadsword of bathwater. Would you like me to capture an evening soak for you?"

Tauriel chuckles, but shakes her head.

"No, thank you. That sounds lovely, but there is a captain's meeting tonight."

"I could come back afterwards?" the maid offers.

"I do appreciate the offer, but I don't know how late I'll be. And, I do know how to run the bath myself if I really want one."

"Oh, I see. You're after my job?"

"Maybe the Defender of Delicacies could do a better job of tracking an Orc pack down, and we should swap places."

"Still no luck today then?" Arodeth asks.

Tauriel recounts her day, between mouthfuls, only leaving out the part of her being pushed aside by the king, and Echtel being left breathless outside.

When she finishes eating, Tauriel quickly washes her face, pausing to inspect her appearance in the mirror. She has the tiniest scratch on her cheekbone, no bigger than a cut from the edge of a parchment sheet.

She smiles, recalling the heat of Thranduil's hand as he touched her face.

Shaking daydreams away, she makes her way to the King's council room.

Many of the other captains are already there, and she's pleased to she that she isn't the first, nor the last, to arrive.

Thranduil's eyes find hers just as she walks in and her stomach flips. He only looks at her a few seconds before turning his attention elsewhere, but it's long enough that she feels her cheeks heat, and she wonders when she became this simpering fool who wears her emotions so openly.

The meeting progresses smoothly, everyone going around and reciting their findings, or more accurately their lack of findings.

Just before he dismisses them, Thranduil introduces a new plan of action.

"Clearly," he begins, "our current method is not working. Therefore, we need to change our tactics. Starting tomorrow I would like all of you to divide your patrols into two smaller groups, which will allow you to cover twice the ground."

"Yes, your majesty," one of the other captains pipes up, "but it makes us more vulnerable as well."

"I disagree," Thranduil counters. "As a larger group you are louder, and slower. Even if you were to sneak up on a group of Orcs, it is likely that one single patrol could not handle them alone as it is if they are in fact travelling in the numbers we suspect. If you divide up you can move quicker, and quieter. As of now, I only want you gaining information on them. You are not to mount an attack."

Everyone around the room murmurs their agreement, only a few seeming to disagree with this new course.

As everyone is dismissed, Tauriel wonders if she should linger around or not, but the decision is taken from her.

"Captains Halvon, Tauriel, and Liel, please remain behind," Thranduil requests loudly.

The other captains file out, while Tauriel and the other two summoned move to the front of the room.

"You three," Thranduil explains, "all have patrols with uneven numbers. I just wanted to clarify that you are to have at least one group of three, then. I don't want anyone out on their own. Understood?"

"Yes, my King," they respond, almost in unison.

They turn to leave, but Thranduil speaks once again before they reach the door.

"Oh, and Captain Tauriel, your patrol area has been shifted. I forgot to mention it. Take a look at this map."

As she turns to return to the front of the room, Captain Liel gives her a sympathetic look and Tauriel feels a surge of affection though she hardly knows the woman.

"Have my patrol areas truly been changed?" Tauriel asks when they are alone.

"No, of course not. I had some new information to share with you."

Thranduil quickly recounts his encounter with Lord Haewon.

"He wants to stop the patrols that stretch beyond our borders," Thranduil finishes. "Perhaps we are getting close to his hidden Orc pack."

"Perhaps," she whispers, thoughtfully.

Something is bothering her, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

"This afternoon," he begins, interrupting her trail of thought, "when I pushed you aside. I hope you don't think that was because I didn't think you capable of protecting yourself… I— it was purely instinctual."

"Next time you'll have to try to fight your instincts. I'm the one pledged to protect you after all, my King."

Her voice is playful, and she takes a couple steps closer to him.

"I'm not sure I  _can_  fight my instincts," he says, taking her hand and drawing her slowly closer. "Some of them are quite… insistent."

She can feel the heat of his breath against her lips, when something clicks together in her mind.

"Lord Haewon," she breathes.

"Excuse me?" Thranduil asks, confused and looking slightly offended.

"When did you say you spoke to Lord Haewon?" she asks.

"Just after I left you… maybe about five minutes later. Why?"

"How did he know? About the spider? Dagon was with the gate guards, Magol and Thanben were headed to the armory, and I was with Grond and Echtel until after you must have already met Lord Haewon.  _How did he know about the spider attack?_ "

"Because he organized it," Thranduil says quietly. "A beast that big was no ordinary spider of the forest. It was a bred and trained pet."

"You know what this means?" Tauriel beams, almost bouncing up and down. "He's slipping up. We almost have him!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** A little shorter than usual, but big things are coming! I hope you are all doing well, and if anyone is wondering I had a wonderful trip with my great-grandmother :) As always, reviews are much appreciated, I love hearing what you guys think!


	17. The Proposal

The next morning, Tauriel reports for patrol with the growing sense of dread budding in her stomach.

Her patrol group is uneven, as she was reminded last night, and now that they are supposed to divide into smaller groups, and she has been forbidden from going on her own, she must have at least one group of three.

Her choice of how to divide took some deliberation, but at last she realized what had to be done, no matter how… distasteful.

Magol and Thanben won't be separated, but she also doesn't want those two on their own unless they have to be. While she would like to pair them with Echtel, leaving her and Grond to make the strongest pair, Tauriel knows that Echtel is a bad influence on the two. He needs to be babysat.

Begrudgingly she decides to pair Grond with the twins, and suffer with Echtel as  _her_ patrol partner.

It's not that she doesn't trust Grond to be able to handle Echtel, it's that she doesn't trust any disagreement between the pair  _not_ to come to blows. At least Echtel has some semblance of duty and listens to her orders as a commanding officer.

Unsurprisingly, when Tauriel arrives to debrief her patrol, there are only three members waiting for her.

Before she can ask, she hears someone running up behind her and turns to find Echtel, sprinting up to join the group.

"You're late," she drawls.

"I noticed," he replies cheekily, "sorry, Captain. It won't happen again."

_I highly doubt that_ , she wants to retort, but bites her tongue.

"As you may have heard, patrols are being split up to cover more ground. This is a stealth operation. You are only out to gather information, and are not to mount any attacks. Fight only if you are discovered and your life depends on it," Tauriel commands.

"If we find something?" Magol pipes up.

"Immediately report back to the palace, and inform the gate guards. They will have further instructions. Any other questions?"

Silence.

"Alright, now as to how we are dividing… We are forbidden from any one soldier patrolling alone," she says, trying not to grit her teeth. "So, Magol and Thanben, I want you with Grond. He will be the leader of your party, and you will listen to him as you would to me. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Magol replies, sounding bored.

Thanben only nods once.

"That leaves—"

"Me and you, eh?" Echtel interrupts, eyeing her slyly.

"It appears so."

Grond, who has remained silent through all of this, gives Tauriel a brief, but apologetic look.

"Let's set out then. We'll march out to the western quadrant and separate from there," she orders.

They trek out in silence, as usual Tauriel and Grond lead the group, and Echtel follows a short distance behind the back of the patrol.

Just before they are about to split up, Grond leans in to speak with Tauriel.

"Remember," he says quietly, "we are not to mount attacks. No matter how much you may want to."

"Of course I—" she begins offhandedly, but then she catches the look he's shooting at Echtel.

She gives Grond a sarcastic smile and elbows him.

"I'll  _try_ to contain myself."

His chuckle is just barely loud enough for her to register, and she's still shaking her head at him as he leads the twins away on their patrol path.

"This way," she tells Echtel, heading off in the opposite direction.

As they make their way through the overgrowth, working hard not to leave tracks, Tauriel waits for the smart remarks and taunts to begin, but they don't come.

Even Echtel's stealth seems to have improved. Whereas normally he clods around almost as pompously as a mortal, today he is swift and quiet.

After a few hours of silence, Tauriel's curiosity gets the better of her.

"You're awfully quiet today," she comments, when they stop to drink from a stream.

"I was under the impression this was a stealth operation."

"We're always on stealth operations. That's never stopped you before."

"What can I say?" he shrugs. "The twins are a bad influence. That Thanben can go on for hours."

She rolls her eyes.

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm thankful."

"Why, Captain… you weren't  _dreading_ working with me, were you?" he asks, clutching his chest in mock hurt.

"Can't imagine why I would."

"I'm sorry," Echtel tells her, all joking aside.

"Pardon? I must have misheard."

"I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday. It wasn't my place. Sometimes, I get carried away."

"Sometimes?" Tauriel scoffs.

"Alright, perhaps I'm not very professional. I am however, trying to offer my apologies for that."

Searching his face for any sign of an incoming punch line, Tauriel finds him to be sincere.

"Thank you," she says, at a loss. "We should keep moving."

The rest of the day passes with ease, as does the next.

Tauriel is pleasantly surprised at how respectful Echtel is on their patrols, and wonders if perhaps she should have knocked him to his knees much sooner than she had.

The only downside is the lack of discovery. Despite the new tactics, they have nothing to show for their work.

It's not just them, either, but all of the patrol groups.

Upon their return the third evening of the new, smaller patrols, Echtel stops Tauriel before she can report to the Captains meeting.

"Wait," he calls, reaching for her arm.

"Yes?"

"Captain, these new patrols are not working."

"That's rather obvious," she replies impatiently, "but the old ones were not working either."

"We need something new."

"And I suppose you have a suggestion."

"Yes. Consider this… if you were a giant Orc pack, trying to hide from an army of Elves, would you really hide within a day's journey from the enemy's front door? Of course not! The reason we're not finding anything is because we are so restricted. We leave at dawn and are expected to return at dusk. How are we to find anything?"

"Are you suggesting overnight patrols?" Tauriel asks.

"Yes. It's the only way to truly expand our search."

"Why are you coming to me with this?"

"You're my Captain, and well… while meaning no disrespect, the King is more likely to listen to you on this matter than he is to me. King Thranduil hasn't allowed overnight patrols in as long as I can remember. At least not something on this scale."

She considers his idea, and has to admit he makes a good point. She's actually a little surprised no one else has made the suggestion yet.

"I'll consider proposing your idea," Tauriel concedes.

X

While Tauriel has spent her days searching for the elusive Orc pack, Thranduil has spent his days searching as well; for information on Lord Haewon to prove any treasonous offenses.

Unfortunately, he's had about as much luck as Tauriel.

He has found no record of Lord Haewon leaving the kingdom, not even to go on so much as a short forest stroll.

_How is he controlling the Orcs? How did he come into contact with them in the first place?_

After inspecting gate logs and questioning guards turn up no answers, Thranduil concludes it is time to start questioning those close to Haewon. He does not, however, wish to raise any alarms, so he must be delicate.

Shortly before the next Captains meeting, Thranduil summons Lady Neleth to his council chambers, under the guise of asking how her planning for Lord Elrond's arrival is going.

She arrives with her arms full of parchment scrolls, and he immediately regrets his decision.

"I have it all planned," she says excitedly, "and I've brought everything along so you can see it."

"I can't wait."

She clearly misses the subtle sarcasm to his drawl.

"Lord Elrond and his party will be arriving in four days. They will probably be tired from their travels, so I thought we might just have a diplomatic dinner as a welcome. They can spend the next day resting, and the evening after that, another full moon, we can host the welcoming banquet."

"Yes, yes," he nods. "That is a good idea."

Lady Neleth beams, and reaches for a scroll.

"Here I have a seating chart drawn up for their arrival dinner."

She spreads the scroll out across his desk, and Thranduil notices she has placed Lord Elrond and herself on either side of him.

Catching Lord Haewon's name on the chart, inspiration strikes.

Thranduil furrows his brow and sighs heavily, looking over the paper.

"Is—is something wrong?" Neleth asks, looking at him concernedly and then back to her chart. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no, no. This looks fantastic, I couldn't have done it better myself."

"Thank you, my King. It just appears as if something is bothering you."

"Well, you see… no, no. Never mind," he says with another sigh, waving her away.

"My King, please, if something is upsetting you, perhaps I can help."

"I was just reminded of an idle piece of gossip I heard; something that has indeed been troubling me. I don't wish to further rumors unsubstantiated. However… may I ask you a question? One that will stay between just the two of us?"

"Yes, of course! I would never betray your confidence," Neleth insists, reaching a hand out to rest on his arm.

"The other morning I overheard a couple maids talking about a certain council member questioning my rule. Have you heard anything of the sort?"

Lady Neleth looks uncertain as to whether she should answer.

"Please?" he implores, voice low and persuasive.

He places his hand over where hers rests on his arm.

"I only wish to know so I may rectify whatever it is I am doing raising these doubts."

"I suppose they were discussing Lord Haewon?" she asks.

"They were."

"Lord Haewon has been quite vocal in his disagreement with your choices since the Battle of Erebor, and in the beginning most people ignored him. Then, even more began to ignore him after you made his son a court musician. We all assumed he was just angry and lashing out, but then…"

"Yes?" he presses.

"Then he started to call even more of your decisions into question, and has slowly been spreading the idea that you are— are not in your right mind. Many still ignore him, but his argument has recently gained some credence. For some people, not— not for everyone," she rushes, looking uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, not in my right mind? And what is this newfound credibility?"

"Well, he has suggested that your judgment has been clouded, and that perhaps your decisions have been influenced by another. By Captain Tauriel. There have been other rumors, about the two of you, which seem to corroborate Lord Haewon's accusations."

"That is absurd," Thranduil says, his face becoming an expressionless mask.

"Of course,  _I_ know that, your majesty. However, others are less convinced."

"What are these other rumors?"

"I'd rather not repeat—" she tries, but he interrupts.

"My Lady, please, I only wish to know what people are saying so I may correct the matter. No one is in trouble."

"Alright. There have been rumors of private dinners, midnight rendezvous, and of course people are talking about the two of you dancing at the Feast of Isilmë. Someone even said you threw yourself in front of a giant spider to protect her."

_Damn. I knew Isilmë would come back to haunt me._

"Preposterous. Neleth, I can assure you no one is swaying the choices I make, and that there is nothing unprofessional going on between Captain Tauriel and myself," he pats her hand reassuringly, all the while wondering who could have witnessed their meetings in the garden.

_It's not as if anything truly illicit has been going on._

The door to his council chambers opens unexpectedly, and Tauriel comes striding in.

"We need to talk," she says, before catching sight of the fact he's not alone.

Lady Neleth looks absolutely scandalized by Tauriel's unannounced intrusion.

"Captain!" he chastises rudely, glaring at Tauriel. "If there are any matters you feel you need to share with me, they can wait until the captains meeting, or you may schedule an appointment. However if you ever barge into any of my chambers unannounced again I will strip your rank so fast, your head will spin. Now, you may excuse yourself!"

"I— yes, your majesty," she stumbles, bowing deeply. "I apologize."

Before she turns to rush away, he catches the hurt in her eyes, and curses inwardly.

"Its no wonder so many rumors follow her," Lady Neleth scoffs. "She's a brash young thing, isn't she?"

X

Tauriel knows Thranduil only spoke to her so rudely because Lady Neleth was present, and she truly should have knocked, but that's not what's bothering her as she roams the hallways.

What's truly gnawing at her is the scene she walked in on.

Thranduil and the councilwoman had both been leaning against the side of his desk, pressed awfully close together, and it looked as if their hands were intertwined.

While Tauriel knows she has no claim to the King, that doesn't stop the bubbling jealousy in her stomach.

Shaking her head, she is furious at herself for letting such a trivial emotion bother her when there are much more important matters at hand.

The more she thought about Echtel's idea, the more she felt it was the right choice. That's why she had gone straight to Thranduil, wanting to propose the idea before the meeting.

_I should have waited._

Roaming the hallways to pass time before the meeting, Tauriel can't control the troubling thoughts that suddenly plague her.

_We've made no promises to one another… we haven't even discussed whatever this thing is that is happening between us._

_Perhaps it is one-sided. Perhaps he doesn't feel the way I do._

She swallows painfully as her throat begins to tighten.

_He has been alone a very long time, what if I am reading too much into his loneliness?_

"Captain Tauriel, good evening."

Captain Dagon thankfully pulls her out of her own head, having just walked around the corner in front of her.

"Good evening," she replies just a moment too late.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, I was just waiting for the meeting to begin. Thinking about a new… would you walk with me? I have a new proposal I'd like to run past you."

"We can walk to the meeting together."

As they walk, Tauriel explains Echtel's idea of extending patrols into overnight excursions. Dagon nods along, his expression thoughtful, and by the time they reach the King's council chamber he is in agreement with the idea.

"Could you, perhaps, be the one to purpose this new plan?" she asks him, glancing uneasily at the wood door before them.

"It's a good plan, I wouldn't wish to take the credit."

"It wasn't mine, it was Echtel's, so you'd be taking nothing from me. And I think it would be better received were it to come from you."

Dagon, always so observant, clearly picks up that there is more she isn't saying, but he is also the epitome of politeness and doesn't probe further.

"If you think that would be best, I will offer the proposal," he agrees.

Tauriel thanks him, and they both enter the council chamber together.

There are several other Captains there already, making it easier for Tauriel to avoid looking at the King.

She takes a place at the back of the room, only half paying attention to the proceedings; just enough to know that, once again, no one was successful in their patrols.

When it's her turn to report she keeps it as brief as possible, looking at Thranduil just long enough to see that he is pointedly not looking at her.

As the meeting is about to conclude, Captain Dagon speaks up.

"Your majesty," he says, drawing all eyes his way, "might I make a suggestion?"

Thranduil nods for him to continue.

"I think it's safe to say, that our current tactics are not working," Dagon says, growing bolder. "Perhaps it is time we change them."

"And what would you suggest?" the King inquires, interested.

"There is only so much ground our patrols can cover in a day. I think it is time to consider sending out scouting parties that are not bound by the same time frame as the rest of the patrols. Parties that can venture out further, and be allowed to stay outside the kingdom on overnight trips."

As she suspected there would be, whispers fill the room.

Tauriel studies her fellow captains and finds many of them to be in agreement, but still many more shaking their heads.

"That is a dangerous suggestion," Thranduil considers, "there are many terrible creatures that venture out at night in the forest."

"Yes, my King, but we are not newly recruited soldiers. We are seasoned warriors who can surely handle ourselves. And as you have stated with your expansion of the patrol areas, isn't the risk of a few a far better option than the risk of the many? We need to find this enemy, before they are ready to fins us."

"How many are in favor of this idea?" Thranduil asks.

Slowly, hands begin to rise.

Tauriel raises hers immediately, and briefly Thranduil looks to her, their eyes locking.

A little more than half of the Captains raise their hands.

With a heavy sigh, the King nods once more.

"Very well," he concedes, "I will allow three separate parties to conduct these new excursions. Captain Dagon, you will lead one of them. You may also choose the other two Captains you wish to lead, and the three of you will remain behind to discuss this further."

Thranduil dismisses them, and all those who disagreed with the proposal are quick to exit, worried they may be chosen for the job.

Tauriel looks hopefully to Dagon, and when he sees her he beckons her over.

"Captain Tauriel," he tells her, "you may lead one of the other parties. As well as…" Dagon reaches out to pull another over. "Captain Liel, I'd like you to lead one as well."

Tauriel and Liel thank Dagon for his confidence and wait for Thranduil to grant them his attention.

When everyone has gone but the four of them, the King begins, laying out the rules.

"There will be three members in each of your parties. This will allow you stealth, but enough back up should it come to it. Back up against the forest at least, it would be best if you did not alert the Orcs as to your location."

Immediately Tauriel decides she will ask Grond to join her, and begrudgingly admits she should ask Echtel as well. It was his plan, after all.

_It is the right thing to do._

"I will allow you three days," Thranduil instructs. "Do  _not_ be late returning. Now, who are you taking with you?"

Captain Dagon goes first, listing the patrol members he will take, and Thranduil records them.

Captain Liel goes next, and when she's finished she and Dagon leave together discussing their routes.

"I'll be taking Grond, and Echtel, my King," Tauriel tells him, stiffly.

Thranduil adds the names to his list quickly, and then stares at her intently, as if unsure what to say.

"I apologize for my intrusion today," she says, "it won't happen again."

Tauriel bows quickly and tries to make her exit but Thranduil moves in front of her to block her path.

"Tauriel," he begins, "I will not apologize for being harsh with you earlier. You need to be more careful. I was in the middle of interrogating Lady Neleth, and your timing was most inopportune."

"Interrogating? Is that what you're calling it?"

"She was telling me about all the rumors Lord Haewon has been spreading. He's been trying to convince the council that I'm not in my right mind. That I have let  _you_ blind me and sway my decisions."

"Me?" Tauriel scoffs.

"Yes. It seems there are rumors about us circulating… most of them are quite accurate. I think we are being watched."

"Do  _you_ think I'm clouding your mind?"

"I don't believe it is your intention," he says slyly, "but perhaps there is some truth to the accusation. Now, what is it you  _thought_  I was doing with Lady Neleth?"

Blushing, Tauriel looks at her feet, not answering.

"Why, Captain, you weren't jealous, were you?" Thranduil asks, and she can hear the smirk in his voice.

She looks back up, unamused.

"Are you going to stand there pretending you've never been jealous?" she questions. "Maybe even a little… over a certain musician we both know?"

"Of course I wasn't a little jealous. I was  _extremely_ jealous. Are you sure he knows you are unavailable?"

"Am I?"

"Are you?"

They stare at each other, neither wanting to be the one to ask the unanswered question hanging between them.

"I should go," Tauriel says. "I need to let my patrol know what is going on."

"Tauriel? Take care of yourself out there, I can't— I couldn't—" Thranduil fumbles, and lets his words die of.

Instead of finishing the thought he takes her face in his hands bends down to give her a searing kiss.

In his lips Tauriel can feel all the words left unsaid, and she molds her body to his in reply.

When they finally break away, their breathing labored and eyes burning, Tauriel feels all of her earlier doubts wash away.

Thranduil takes her hand and traces his thumb over her skin.

"Take care."

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Sorry about the long wait for this chapter! The next one will be out much sooner. I hope you are all still enjoying the story! It's definitely taken a different turn than I first anticipated, there are a lot more politics and conspiracies than I had envisioned, so I hope that isn't taking away from their budding relationship for anyone. Reviews are always appreciated, thank you!


	18. An Old Friend

" _Are you sure he knows you're unavailable?"_

" _Am I?"_

" _Are you?"_

That brief exchange and the heated kiss that followed keep Thranduil up late into the night; the scene playing over and over again in his mind.

As he knows sleep is out of the picture, he tries to tend to matters of state, but after settling into his council room he cannot stay focused long enough to accomplish anything, and eventually finds himself wondering about what Lady Neleth said earlier.

_Perhaps there is a grain of truth in Lord Haewon's accusations_ , he muses.  _I have been rather distracted lately. Could it be we are not making progress because of my own wandering mind?_

Thranduil shakes his head silently at himself.

_No, no of course not. Just because I've been a bit preoccupied, that doesn't mean I don't have my kingdom's best interests at heart._

_Although, perhaps my head would be a bit more clear if Tauriel and I were to have a… upfront discussion about… matters._

He shifts uncomfortably at the thought.

_What does she expect from me? Surely she understands there are things I cannot give, such as…_

The latch on the door clicks, echoing loudly through the quiet chamber.

Instantly on guard, Thranduil blows out the single candle in front of him, and slips from behind his desk, slinking into the corner of the room.

He watches as a hooded figure enters, carrying a small lantern.

This mysterious intruder heads straight for his desk, setting the lantern down, and begins to rifle through the papers scattered across the top.

Thranduil springs, wrapping one arm around the intruder's neck from behind, and his other hand pulling a blade from inside his robes.

"Who are you and what do you think you are doing?" Thranduil hisses.

"Please, my King! Forgive me!"

"Neleth?"

Thranduil releases his hold and spins her around, pushing her hood back and indeed revealing the councilwoman.

"I could have killed you! What are you doing?" he demands.

"I—I'm sorry, my King. I forgot one of my scrolls when I was here earlier. I came to get it. I didn't think anyone would be up."

With a shaky hand, Neleth grabs a roll of paper from the edge of the desk and hands it to him.

Unrolling it, Thranduil recognizes the seating chart they went over that afternoon.

"This couldn't have waited until morning?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explains, "I thought I would do some more work on the plans. I realized I was perhaps a bit presumptuous placing myself at your side. That seems a spot more reserved for the eldest member of the council."

Thranduil sighs and shakes his head.

"No, no, it's fine. You planned everything after all."

"Again, I am so very sorry. I should never have entered your council chambers without permission."

"Don't apologize," he insists, suddenly very weary. "If anything, forgive  _me_. Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine… just a bit startled. You have nothing to apologize for, though, charging a shadowy figure in your office in the dead of night. May I— may I ask why you're here working so late?"

"I couldn't sleep either," he admits.

"Why not?" she asks earnestly.

Thranduil doesn't respond right away, and the curiosity glinting in her eyes, quickly shifts to chagrin.

"That was rude. It's not my place," she begins to apologize, but he cuts her off.

"Honestly, I was thinking about what you told me earlier, about the rumors circulating. How bad is it really? Are my people doubting me?"

"I wouldn't say that anyone is doubting you," Neleth begins, rather evasively, "there are just whispers. People are curious more than anything. Our kingdom has been the same for so long, but now things are changing.  _A lot_. The deviation from the norm, and downright upheaval of traditions, has set people on edge."

He sighs, feeling twice as weary as he was just moments ago.

"I appreciate your honesty. What do you recommend I do to restore order and faith?" he asks.

She ponders his question, looking only slightly uncomfortable about being put on the spot.

"Something big," Neleth muses, "and something steeped in tradition. Maybe something that will make the kingdom feel united. There are fractures in our communities, stemming from differing of opinions, and losses suffered and not suffered during the battle."

"Something big, traditional, and uniting? I haven't the slightest clue."

"Well," she says slowly, "you could get married."

Thranduil starts laughing, and it's only once he sees her mortified face he realizes she wasn't joking.

"You're serious?" he asks.

"Have you never considered it? I thought— I mean— it's been so long since... Aren't you lonely? Your position seems very isolated."

"I suppose I haven't ever considered it. There has never… there was never anyone to make me consider it."

"That's the best I can come up with, my King."

Thranduil grows quiet.

He remains silent for so long, Neleth begins to excuse herself.

She stops after just a few steps, and turns back to face him, resolve clear on her face.

"Did you know we were once promised to one another?" she asks him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Our fathers made an arrangement when we were both quite young. This was when my family still lived in our own hold. Your father needed more soldiers, and my father had his own garrison. They struck a bargain."

"I've never heard this."

"My father's men fought for your father, and many died. They agreed they would wait until we were older to tell us. However, before that day came you had already met Gilrin. Your father broke the deal, and it was only then my own father told me," Neleth tells him. "I'm happy you found love, my King, but marriages can be also be built on mutual respect, and contracts meant to benefit those we care about."

She pauses and Thranduil's not sure whether she expects him to speak.

"If you do decide you wish to do something big, traditional, and uniting, I am still willing to complete the bargain our fathers struck. Goodnight."

Lady Neleth leaves, and Thranduil sits on the edge of his desk, trying to process everything she's just told him.

He can't believe his father would make a deal like that and never tell him, though he doesn't doubt what Lady Neleth said.

Out of everything, one question immediately comes to mind.

_Was I just proposed to?_

X

After she left Thranduil, Tauriel sought out both Grond, and Echtel, to tell them of the new mission. She also sent word to the twins that for the time being they would be transferring to another patrol.

She is positive she won't be able to sleep when she climbs into bed that night, but it's as if her body forces her into a deep slumber, preparing itself for the journey to come.

The next morning Arodeth is already there with breakfast when Tauriel awakes.

"You know I'm only going to be gone three days, don't you?" she asks, looking over the enormous spread of food waiting for her.

"Three days is a long time to go without a hot meal," Arodeth insists. "Now you just hush and eat something. And I'm expecting you to have seconds as well!"

Obligingly, Tauriel slips out of bed and grabs a large roll from the elaborate display.

"Is there anything else you me to get you before you go? Fresh stockings? Cakes for the road? Are your weapons sharp enough?" Arodeth frets.

"You wouldn't happen to be worried about me, would you?"

"Me? Oh, of course not. Why would I worry about you disappearing into the dark, infested, forest for three days to go looking for an army of Orcs? What's there to worry about?"

"Exactly," Tauriel replies innocently, taking another bite from her roll.

Arodeth stares at her exasperatedly, and throws her arms up in the air.

"Okay, then. Fine."

She marches towards the door and groans, then turns around to march straight back at Tauriel.

"Do you have to go?"

"Of course I do, but don't worry. I'll be fine." Tauriel tries to reassure her.

"You had best be. Take care of yourself out there. I couldn't— you're my…"

"You're my best friend too, Arodeth."

The maid smiles at her, her eyes threatening tears, and pulls her into a hug.

"I can see why mortals choose to express affection this way," Arodeth mumbles into her hair, and Tauriel just smiles.

"I'll see you in three days," Tauriel says, pulling away. "Now you take care as well. I don't think this kingdom could function without you."

Arodeth snorts, and wishes Tauriel a safe journey before excusing herself.

After eating more than she normally would, knowing the empty trays will please Arodeth, Tauriel waits at the front gates for Grond and Echtel.

Grond is the first to arrive, and Arradon shows up right behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Tauriel asks, pleasantly surprised.

She hasn't got to see much of him lately.

"I just wanted to see you off," he tells her, smiling, "and to tell you to be safe out there.  _Both_ of you be safe out there."

Arradon throws in a pointed nod at Grond, who just smirks.

"We will be," Tauriel swears, "I promise. You know this isn't my first patrol? Why is everyone so worried?"

Before Arradon can respond, no doubt with something sarcastic, Echtel runs up to join them.

"You were almost on time," she says, "I'm impressed."

"I would have been early, had I not been intercepted by one of the King's stewards. Here," Echtel retorts, shoving a scroll at her.

Tauriel takes it and immediately sees the King's wax seal.

Breaking it open and scanning the missive, she sighs.

"Alright, change of plans. Looks like our route has been altered. We're branching off southwest near where the Enchanted River bends."

"Towards the mountains near the Old Forest Road?" Grond asks.

Tauriel nods.

"I'm ready when you are, Captain."

She turns to Arradon, who looks more concerned than he'll admit.

"We'll be fine. We have to go, though, so we can get back," she teases. "Dinner when I get back?"

"You had best count on it," he smiles, offering them all a small bow.

Once they are in the trees, Echtel pipes up, and Tauriel suppresses a groan, knowing his recent good behavior couldn't last.

"He seems like a decent enough fellow," he comments. "There's got to be something wrong with him, though, giving up a military career like his to be a  _musician._ "

She's about to respond, but Grond beats her to it.

"Because  _clearly_  someone who doesn't feel like risking their life must have something wrong with them," Grond sneers sarcastically. "Now, why don't you stop risking ours and silence that hole in your face."

Tauriel has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, thinking how unprofessional that would be. She does, however, shoot Grond an appreciative smile the next chance she gets.

As usual, the day is fairly uneventful. They find nothing to indicate an Orc pack is nearby, but the silence of the forest leaves Tauriel feeling uneasy. Though normally not very lively, their surroundings are even more deadly quiet than usual.

As the sun begins to sink, and the darkness around them grows, so does the group's tension.

Nobody says it, but it is clear they all share the same uneasiness from being in the forest at night.

"I'd really love a fire right about now," Echtel says as they settle in to make camp for the night.

"We can't risk it," Tauriel reminds him.

"Who is going to see it? The forest is practically empty, and the trees are so thick, it would almost be impossible to see."

"You've answered your own question," Grond counters. "Why do you suppose the forest is empty? What could drive away the beasts that call this home? And as you said,  _almost_ impossible to see; which means still possible."

Echtel mumbles under his breath, and then says something practically unintelligible about having to find a bathroom, before stomping off into the woods.

Tauriel rolls her eyes.

"Maybe if we move now, he'll just go back to the castle when he can't find us," Grond suggests, making her laugh again.

A few minutes later they hear Echtel crashing back through the underbrush.

"Could you at least  _attempt_  to be—" the words die on Tauriel's tongue.

It isn't Echtel.

It's an ambush.

X

Back at the castle, Thranduil is just finishing up for the day. He's signing off on some new trade orders to send to Dale, but rummaging around, he can't seem to locate his seal.

Sighing, and feeling completely exhausted after his lack of sleep the night before, he decides to worry about it in the morning.

X

The first thing Tauriel is aware of when she wakes up is the stiffness in her neck, and the pounding in her head.

Her head is slouched forward uncomfortably, chin resting on her chest, and her head feels as if she spent the whole night in the King's private wine cellar. (Which she's only done once before, and it was completely Legolas' idea.)

She can taste the tang of blood in her mouth, and when she tries to reach up and touch her head, Tauriel realizes her hands are bound.

Slowly she becomes more aware of her body.

She's sitting up, propped against a wooden post, with her hands bound around behind it. Her fingers are starting to tingle from lack of blood flow.

Groaning, she lifts her head, and immediately wishes she were still unconscious.

She's in the camp of the Orc pack they've been looking for.

Eyes scanning quickly, she sees a few dozen Orcs doing work around her, and signs of many more in the area.

As the panic in her chest grows she looks left and right, seeing two posts similar to the one she is bound to, with Grond and Echtel both tied up as well.

Grond is unconscious, and his front is shimmering with blood.

Swallowing back bile, Tauriel prays it isn't his.

On her right, Echtel is awake, his face a blank mask as he takes in their surroundings.

When he catches her looking at him, he bows his head.

"Well, well, look what my friends brought home."

Tauriel twists to see who is talking, because the voice she hears is not that of an Orc.

It's also one she happens to recognize.

When her eyes land on him, Tauriel feels herself go numb, and vaguely wonders why they never thought of this possibility.

"Surprised? You shouldn't be. My banishment would never have been enough. I told you this wasn't over," Erwarth sneers.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Again I would like to remind you that my knowledge comes strictly from the movies, I just wanted to put that out there before I get messages calling me out on the proper courtships of Elves and the unlikelihood of arranged marriages.

Next, I would like to apologize for my lack of reliability when it comes to updating. I could tell you about how busy I am and blah, blah, blah, but the truth is I received a few nasty messages about my writing (about this fic) and despite the fact the positive responses outweigh the negative, it was still a blow to the confidence. After receiving so many wonderful comments, and messages from those of you enjoying the story, I realized it was unfair for me to make you guys wait because of a few rude people. I will try to do better in the future. (I would also like to clarify that constructive criticism is  _always_ welcome, but if your intent is only to be rude, please move along, you will get no response from me)

Thank you so very much for sticking with me on this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!


	19. Laughter is Not Always the Best Medicine

The next morning Thranduil thinks that he really must be losing his mind when he returns to his council chambers and he finds his seal in the middle of his desk.

Shaking his head he finishes of his letters and sends them on their way.

While the people of Dale are wasting no time settling into their new home, they are still in need of great assistance.

They have limited food supplies, and winter will soon be upon them. While they now have wealth beyond what they ever hoped for, their location makes it hard to trade, as most towns nearby all moved on, far away from the shadow of Erebor, when Smaug moved in.

Currently, there is nothing else King Bard has to offer that Thranduil needs, but Thranduil offered the use of his kingdom's trade routes in exchange for a future favor.

_Always good to have favors floating about, ready to be cashed in when needed._

With that taken care of, his mind briefly flits to Tauriel, wondering how her first night in the forest was. There is a faint prickle of worry in stomach, but he ignores it.

_She is more than capable of taking care of herself,_ he reminds himself.

Thinking of Tauriel brings Neleth to mind, and her offer.

Thranduil has never even considered remarrying; even now, when he has found someone he cares for, the idea of matrimony seems so foreign.

Part of him, the quite jealous part, likes the idea of having claim over Tauriel, and she over him. The rational part, however, reminds him of the distance in their station, and how unimaginable their union would be.

Neleth on the other hand is, logistically at least, an ideal candidate.

Even their parents thought so at one point.

But the thought of stripping Neleth beside the pond in his garden, under the shining light of the moon, does absolutely nothing for him. Aside from make him feel unexplainably guilty.

_Not that there isn't more to it than that… obviously marriage is much more than just the physical pleasures we could offer one another._

The same image of the moonlit garden replays in his mind, with one pointed difference. It's Tauriel's alabaster skin glowing in the open air.

Instead of shirking from his imagination, he continues to let it wander, enjoying the way the breeze plays with her fiery tresses.

He imagines she would be shy, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she looks up at him through her lashes.

Thranduil would feel the urge to pounce, but restrain himself, wanting only to make their first time as special as possible.

His hands would—

"Your Majesty?"

Thranduil blinks rapidly, clearing the much preferred scenario from his mind's eye, and shifts his attention to his aide.

"Yes, Nimmon?" he sighs, crashing back into duty filled reality.

X

By the time dawn breaks, Tauriel can feel every muscle in her body aching.

She was left tied to the post all night.

Her shoulders and neck are the worst, and she almost wishes she would have just tried to sleep through it, but she didn't want to let her guard down even for a moment.

_Not that I could do much to protect myself even if I did see them making a move,_  she thinks bitterly, straining once more against her bonds.

She knows it's no use; she's been trying for hours. If they were going to come undone, it would have happened already.

As the hour grows later, more and more of her surroundings begin to come into focus.

It looks as if they are in the foothills of the mountains near the old forest road. It's such a rocky dense area; she's not sure why they never considered here in the first place.

_I swore this was near a patrol path… I guess it doesn't matter now._

On her right, Echtel seems to be sleeping, and she wonders how he managed it.

On the left, Grond is unconscious, his breathing ragged, and the morning light confirms it was blood she saw last night.

"Hey!" Tauriel yells, her voice hoarse from dehydration. "Erwarth! One of you slimy abominations, I don't care! Someone!"

Echtel jerks awake and looks around in panic. When he sees her yelling he starts shaking his head, clearly wondering what the hell she is thinking.

"Hello?!"

An Orc from a nearby fire pit clambers to his feet and stomps in her direction. She tries to keep the fear from her face.

"Shut up," it grunts, coming close enough to kick at her legs.

"My friend is dying," Tauriel says anyway, jerking her head towards Grond.

"I said shut it."

The Orc kicks out at her again; it's enormous foot connecting painfully with her thigh.

"He needs help."

This time it doesn't bother to tell her to shut up, instead immediately backhanding her when she speaks.

Stars burst before her eyes and her head hangs to one side as she regains her bearings.

The creature has just turned to walk away when she spits a mouthful of blood out beside her, and speaks once more.

"Listen to me you filthy mongrel," she growls through gritted teeth, "get me someone in charge  _right now._  This conversation is clearly above your comprehension, so run along and fetch your master."

Beside her Tauriel can hear Echtel groan, clearly thinking she's went too far.

Snarling, the Orc makes to lash out at her again, and she braces.

"Halt! Was I not clear in my orders? She is not to be harmed!"

The Orc grunts and turns around. Tauriel sees Erwarth angrily glaring it down, and to her surprise the Orc stomps away without further confrontation.

Erwarth turns to walk away too, and Tauriel calls out to him.

"Wait!" she croaks. "I need to speak with you  _now!_ "

Erwarth doesn't go far, stooping near a supply pile to grab a canteen and a rag, before heading back in her direction.

He crouches beside her and tries to grab her chin in his fingers, but she jerks away.

"What are you doing?"

"You have a split lip," he replies, annoyed. "Hold still."

He reaches out for her again, but she jerks away once more.

"Hold still," he grinds out, "and I'll listen to whatever you were shouting about."

Begrudgingly she lets him tilt her head up, and after wetting the rag he brought, he dabs at the split on her lip.

When he finishes cleaning her up he holds the canteen to her mouth.

"Drink," Erwarth commands, and this time she doesn't hesitate.

He pulls away before she's ready for him to and water spills down her front.

"What do you want?" he asks, then nods to her bound hands, "Besides the obvious?"

"My friend needs his wounds tended."

"Why does that concern me? Seems like more his problem."

"You just said we weren't to be harmed," she argues.

"No, I said  _you_ weren't to be harmed," he corrects.

"What? Why just me? You  _hate_ me! Grond has done nothing wrong, please!"

Erwarth stands up and stretches tauntingly.

"Are you admitting you  _have_ done something wrong?" he asks.

"Is that what you want? An admission of guilt?"

"It's a start."

"Will you help him?" she begs.

Erwarth doesn't respond, just stands over her, arms crossed, staring expectantly.

"Fine. I'll say it… I'm a traitor," Tauriel begins. "I betrayed our people. I risked the lives of our people on my own personal endeavor. I— I fell in love with a dwarf. I abandoned my post for him. I'm the one who should have been banished, not you."

He continues to stare at her, a wicked smirk dancing around his mouth.

"Please, please, just help him. It was all me. He did nothing wrong."

"I do like it when you beg," Erwarth sighs, leaving her side, and walking towards Grond. "I'll see what I can do."

Tears of relief spring to her eyes, and she looks away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Her heart hurts from calling Kili a betrayal; it feels like a stain on his memory.

When she opens her eyes she sees Echtel is staring at her, and unless she knew better, she'd almost think he was watching her with sympathy in his eyes.

X

That evening Thranduil has one of his regular meetings with his council members, and he doesn't think things could be any tenser.

Half of the members won't meet his eyes, and he suspects they believe the rumors Lord Haewon has been spreading.

Lord Haewon has no such qualms, staring Thranduil down through the entire session, setting his teeth on edge.

When Thranduil looks to Lady Neleth for support she briefly meets his eyes, but abruptly looks away.

_She looks embarrassed._

The meeting stretches on endlessly, as the council members take turns weighing the pros and cons of opening up their trade routes to Dale.

"There is no point to this," Thranduil interrupts with a sigh. "I have already extended the offer. I only asked for your assistance in preparing a schedule to send along, so King Bard may plan accordingly to ensure our shipments do not intercept."

After a few sullen seconds, suggestions start piling up and Thranduil pretends to take notes while sketching on the edge of his scroll.

When he finishes, Thranduil can't help but smirk down at his work.

"Your Majesty?"

"Hmm?"

_Wandered to far._

"Will that be all for the evening?" one of the councilmen asks.

"Yes, yes, you are dismissed," he replies waving them away.

_On second thought…_

"Lady Neleth? A minute, if you please," Thranduil calls, just before she manages to slip from the room.

When she approaches he can't help but notice how uncomfortable she looks, so he attempts to lighten her mood.

He holds up his drawing, depicting Lord Haewon being drug off by a giant spider.

"What do you think?" he asks. "I'm debating making this my new house sigil."

"It's an incredible likeness," she says, smiling wryly.

"The details were easy enough; I've spent ample time imagining it."

This elicits a small laugh, and she seems to ease up a bit.

"Was this what you wished to discuss?" Neleth questions.

"No, but I wasn't joking. This would look excellent on a banner, don't you think?"

When she doesn't respond, Thranduil sighs, wishing not to have the discussion they are about to.

"Neleth," he begins slowly, "about the suggestion you made…"

"I rushed it, didn't I?"

She scrunches her forehead, as if waiting for a fatal blow.

"Perhaps a bit, but that's not the problem. I just don't see myself remarrying any time soon, or perhaps ever," Thranduil explains.

He almost reaches out for her hand, but stops, not wanting to send the wrong message.

Neleth nods stiffly, and takes a few steps back from him.

"Are you sure this is about not wishing to remarry? Or about not wishing to marry me?"

"I will admit I don't know you as well as I would like to, were we to marry, but no, it isn't you."

"It's her, isn't it?" she asks. "Lord Haewon has been telling the truth. He said he saw you kissing Tauriel, but I ignored him, thinking he was just out for revenge. It's all true though."

"Neleth—"

"Don't worry,  _my King_ , I will not spread your secrets. I also won't let this interfere with my work. So if you'll excuse me," she says, all emotion that was in her voice moments ago having vanished, leaving her sounding cold and shut off.

Much like how Thranduil normally speaks.

"Neleth," he tries again, but she cuts him off.

"Good evening," she bows, and hurries from the room.

He groans and tilts his head back.

_That could have gone worse… probably._

Thranduil hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings, and he thought if he had waited too long to speak with her, or made it appear he was truly considering her proposal, it would only hurt her more in the long run.

_I'm starting to think war was easier than women._

X

By the time the sun sets on her second day in the forest, Tauriel is having a hard time keeping her eyes open. They keep drifting closed, and she suddenly jolts awake when her chin hits her chest.

It's been at least thirty-six hours since she last slept, and her thoughts are growing muddled and repetitive.

She keeps running through the same futile escape plans, but can't seem to come up with anything solid. The fact she hasn't ate since yesterday afternoon hasn't helped either.

Tauriel is almost thankful for her dehydration, as she has been able to avoid needing to go to the bathroom. She's not entirely sure she'll be granted the luxury of using a bush.

Finally, unable to prevent it any longer, she falls into a fitful slumber.

Tauriel isn't sure how long she sleeps, it doesn't feel like long, and it is still dark when she opens her eyes. All she knows is that someone groaning is what woke her.

She jerks awake, and sucks in a breath through clenched teeth when her strained muscles spasm from the sudden movement.

She wants to scream in frustration when she sees her terrible predicament was not in fact a nightmare.

Next to her, the groaning that woke her comes again.

"Grond?" she whispers.

His post is about five feet from hers, and if he's awake she knows he should be able to hear her.

"Grond, please talk to me," Tauriel begs.

"W— happened?" he croaks.

"We were ambushed. I don't really know what happened exactly, I just woke up here with my head pounding. Echtel said earlier they grabbed him while he was in the woods," she explains. "I—I don't know what happened to you. Just that you must have put up a hell of a fight. When I woke you were covered in blood."

"My… side… think I got stabbed."

Grond's breathing is still labored, and he is fighting to get every word out.

"Shh, don't speak. Just rest. I don't think I can convince Erwarth to change your bandages. It was hard enough getting him to help you at all."

"Erwarth?" he spits, and Tauriel can just see his outline struggling to free himself in the darkness; all the fire pits have burnt down to embers.

"It's no use, you'll only injure yourself further. Please," she pleads, "just relax. I—I'll try to think of something."

Grond exhales loudly and slumps down once more.

_What am I going to do?_ She panics.  _He needs a healer, soon. Field dressing won't be enough to save him, not after how much blood he lost._

At this point, unable to free herself, Tauriel's best hope is the one person she's tried so hard not to think about.

_Thranduil._

She says the name in her mind, caressing it like a talisman; a beacon of hope in the darkness around her.

Tauriel has resisted thinking of Thranduil so far, finding it too painful. She can't help but think of the things she never told him. The things she may never  _get_ to tell him.

_He won't even know we're missing until tomorrow night… and then he'll just suppose I'm being headstrong and late. How long before he realizes something is wrong? Before they send someone to look fo—_

"The route," she murmurs.

_Why would he change my route when we just spoke the night before and had arranged everything?_

In any other circumstances she never would have questioned it, but in this case it's just too coincidental that she received orders that sent her straight towards the Orc camp just minutes before she was supposed to leave.

"Echtel, you cowardly son of a—" she cries, kicking her legs out sending rocks and gravel to her right.

"What the hell is your problem?" he asks, offended.

Tauriel wishes she could see his face. She wishes she could spit in it.

"You betrayed us! You helped set this up!"

"What are you on about? In case you hadn't noticed I'm tied up right bloody next to you!"

At the nearest fire pit, an Orc hunched over, supposedly the one who is to be guarding the prisoners, wakes up.

"Shut up, or I'll rip out your tongues," it threatens.

"It's a cover," Tauriel accuses, lowering her voice. "In case we make it out of here, so you can still keep spying."

"You're mad."

"Why were you the only one not injured? Why have you hated me since the first time we met?  _Why did you give us the orders that directed us into an ambush?_ "

"First of all," Echtel starts, "they snuck up on me when I was going to the bathroom. I'm not injured because I didn't put up much of a fight. Wasn't gonna risk  _that_ with my fun bits hanging out, now was I?"

Tauriel rolls her eyes, wishing he could see the disgusted look on her face.

"Secondly, I never hated you. I mean, I thought you were a pain in the ass. You're quite uptight, you know? I was only teasing you. Seeing how far I could push you. I have a bet with the twins."

_Okay, that does sound like something he would do._

"And thirdly, I  _told_ you, one of the King's stewards gave me the scroll! Some mousey fellow; he was probably shorter than you. I swear I wasn't involved."

The earnestness in his voice draws all the anger from her, and she immediately feels bad for accusing him, realizing just how quickly she jumped to conclusions.

_Don't kill the messenger. Even if they try to make your life living hell._

"Are we good?" Echtel asks.

"Well, I guess I believe you weren't involved, but I'm not sure if we're 'good'. Tell me about this bet?"

"Uh, well the twins think you are too headstrong to ever admit defeat, so I bet them that I could get you to break and request I be transferred to another patrol."

"What was the wager?" she asks.

"A barrel of Longbottom Leaf."

"Are you telling me… you've been such a— a  _cock_ — over a barrel of pipe-weed?"

In spite of everything, how much she aches, how hopeless their situation seems, Tauriel cannot stop the bubble of laughter that escapes her.

Their entire ordeal, so absolutely  _not_ funny, somehow adds to the hilarity and she can't seem to stop laughing. Before she knows it Echtel joins in and that makes matters even worse.

The Orc guarding them stomps over to Tauriel and kicks her foot.

"I said to shut up," it rumbles.

She tries to stop laughing, she really does, but it's no use.

_I think I've lost it._

The Orc draws its blade and points it at Tauriel's neck.

_Stop. Stop laughing._

She snorts loudly, her reaction completely beyond her control.

_I've gone mad. After all I've been through these last few months, everything I've suffered, I've finally been pushed over the edge._

_Over a barrel of weed._

It draws its blade back as if to strike a blow and still she laughs.

"Hey, ugly," Echtel goads. "Leave her alone! You heard your leader. She's not to be harmed!"

The Orc grunts and lowers its weapon.

"You're right," it concedes.

And then in one swift motion it turns and swings its sword at Echtel instead. In the dark Tauriel can only see outlines, but she sees the Orc strike just above Echtel's shoulders.

There is a soft thud and the sound of something rolling.

Her laughter ceases abruptly.

It's not funny anymore.

Nothing is.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I just want to say thank you, thank you,  _thank you_ , for the beautiful outpouring of support I received after posting the last chapter. Honestly, you can't know how much your encouragement means to me. As you can see, I also found it very inspiring which is why I couldn't stop writing, and now have a second update in one week. I also feel like I owed you after the last long wait. I may not respond to every single review, but please know that I do read every one and they mean a lot to me.

... So I feel a little bad about stopping the chapter here, but it felt like the right spot. Hoping to have the next chapter up by this weekend. I've already started on it :)


	20. Revelations

The next morning dawn arrives to find Tauriel staring blankly down at her lap. Her face expressionless, and shoulders slumped in defeat.

_Those around you are not safe,_  her mind whispers to her.  _You are cursed, destroying the lives of all you touch._

_Your parents; dead. Kili; dead. Legolas; running from home._

She hears someone whistling jauntily, and involuntarily looks up to see Erwarth striding towards her, wooden bowl in hand.

"Breakfast," he tells her, holding the bowl to her mouth.

The smell of whatever is in it, although not quite appetizing, causes her stomach to grumble loudly.

Tauriel shakes her head in refusal, despite her aching hunger.

"Come on," Erwarth growls. "You don't have to make  _everything_  so difficult."

"Him," she croaks, barely parting her lips lest he try to force-feed her. "Him first."

She looks over at Grond, watching the way his head sways, and his lips mumble unheard musings.

"He's a waste of resources," Erwarth counters.

"Why are you keeping me alive?" Tauriel asks, finally voicing the thought that has plagued her since she heard she was not to be harmed.

"Because I'm being ordered to.  _Now eat._ "

"You need me for something… or somebody does."

"I've not got time for this. You will eat this willingly, or I will force it down your throat," he threatens.

"I'll make you a deal."

Erwarth scoffs, and shakes his head, clearly not believing the gall of her.

"You are not exactly in a position to be making deals," he reminds her.

"You need me for something. You need me unharmed. What if I promise to do as you say? Not to act up or defy your orders? I'll eat when you tell me to eat, drink when you tell me to drink, and be quiet when you tell me not to speak."

He doesn't answer. Staring at her, bored.

"I'll also promise not harm myself," she adds. "All it would take is a couple good strikes of my head against this wooden post when no one is looking and I bet  _you_ would be dead for failing your mission… don't underestimate me."

"What do you want?" he asks, anger turning his words into a growl.

"All I ask is that you allow me to heal my friend. I'm certainly not the best, but I do have enough battle healing training to be of service to him.  _Please_ ," she begs. "Let me help him."

Erwarth studies her intently and Tauriel forces herself to meet his hardened gaze. She hopes he finds whatever he's looking for.

"Eat," he says, holding the bowl to her mouth once more.

When she hesitates, he sighs loudly.

"You cannot heal on an empty stomach."

"Thank you," she breathes, and parts her lips to allow him to feed her.

He tilts the bowl and she drinks greedily, trying not to gag on the slimy stew, knowing she needs the nourishment no matter how foul it tastes.

When the bowl is empty, Erwarth sets it aside and withdraws a small dagger from his belt. She tries not to blanch as the blade catches the sun, glinting menacingly.

"If you try  _anything_ that one over there," he points at Grond, "will go the same way as the other."

Tauriel instinctually looks to her right, at Echtel's post, empty but for the sword lodged into the wood about halfway up.

"Understand?"

"I understand," she whispers.

Erwarth hesitates only a moment more before reaching behind the post to cut off the ropes binding her hands.

Her fingers tingle painfully as her blood begins to flow properly to all of her digits, and she gasps, rolling her shoulders forward. She takes a moment to massage her wrists and try to help her circulation, but is quick to help her friend.

Tauriel's legs give out when she tries to stand, so she half crawls half stumbles to his side.

"Grond," she mumbles, taking his face between her hands.

His eyelids are fluttering, and lips still moving, but he's far from conscious. She can feel the fever raging in him, radiating through her palms.

"Oh, Grond…"

"Ar… I… back… come back… arr…"

"Shhh, hush," she coos.

Behind her, Erwarth is watching with arms crossed.

Tauriel pushes aside Grond's shirt to reveal his wound; Erwarth already having cut the material when he bandaged the injury.

Afraid of what she'll find, Tauriel unwraps the makeshift bandage wrapped around Grond's waist.

She hisses when she sees what lies beneath.

His wound is still seeping blood, but it isn't as severe as it could be; it looks as if the blade that pierced him missed all major organs.

The real concern is the angry swelling redness surrounding the gash.

"It's infected," she says, looking over her shoulder at Erwarth. "I need Yarrow… and Saffron. Plus hot water, and fresh cloth to bandage him back up."

When Erwarth doesn't immediately start moving, Tauriel grows bold and impatient.

"You said I could heal him! Now move!"

He glares at her, but whistles calling the two closest Orcs over. They stare down at Tauriel in disgust, but she notes when they turn to Erwarth their hatred barely lessens.

"Bring Yarrow, Saffron, and boiling water. Now," he commands.

Tauriel prods the area around the wound, chewing her lower lip as Grond jumps in response.

_I hope it's not too late._

"I'll need a mug as well, and another bowl," she adds as the Orcs return with her supplies.

They grumble menacingly, but comply, and she sets to work.

First she fills the mug half full of boiling water and adds the saffron before setting it aside to let it steep.

_Saffron for infection, and to bring down the fever,_  she recites to herself.  _Yarrow to fight further infection, and induce healing._

Next she rips off a piece of the clean cloth they brought her and wets it in the hot water, using it to dab the wound and clean away all the debris lining the jagged hole.

Tauriel fills a wooden bowl with yarrow and scoops a small amount of water into it as well. She grabs a rock and begins using it to grind the yarrow, creating a thick, goopy paste.

She closes her eyes and begins to chant as she works, calling out to the earth around her, begging for the strength to save this man.

The familiar tingle of magic starts in the pit of her stomach and Tauriel grabs hold of the feeling, urging it to grow, spreading the healing power throughout her.

She opens her eyes and the world fades away, in this moment it is just she and Grond.

Tauriel continues her chanting, taking a handful of the yarrow paste and pressing it into Grond's wound. She presses her hand tightly to his side, and though he struggles against the pressure at first, soon the healing tendrils spreading throughout her begin to transfer to him.

He sighs loudly, the effect of the magic taking hold, lessening his pain. Grond's eyes flicker open, and he stares up at her, becoming conscious of his surroundings.

The magical tingling in her stomach begins to abate, and Tauriel gasps, releasing her hold on Grond's side.

After she catches her breath, she inspects the wound. The infection is not entirely gone, but much of the redness, and most of the swelling has subsided.

Tauriel slathers another layer of the yarrow paste over the opening, and begins to rebind the injury.

When she has him bandaged once more, she reaches for the saffron tea, and presses the mug to his cracked lips.

He is awake now, but she can see the weariness in his eyes.

Grond obliges her and drinks the tea without question, and when she meets his brown eyes she finds nothing but trust and gratitude looking back.

X

If someone were to ask Thranduil how he spent  _his_  day, he would not be able to answer with any certainty.

The only thing he is positive of, is that " _Tauriel returns tonight_ " crossed his mind hundreds of time.

While it is true what he told Neleth, about not knowing if he will ever be ready to remarry, it also true that he can no longer deny the extent of his feelings for his Sylvan Captain.

_Perhaps once I tell her how I feel, I may be able to again focus on other things._

Not that he doesn't want to focus on Tauriel, but he  _does_ have a kingdom to run.

As dusk draws near, Thranduil must force himself to wait in his council chambers, rather than at the gate to watch for her arrival.

He stares blankly at his desk, tapping his quill agitatedly.

When there is a knock on the door, he jumps, straightening his back and jutting his chin proudly.

"Enter."

The door creaks open and both Captains Dagon and Liel enter. Tauriel does not follow.

"What did you find?" he asks, trying to ignore the disappointment in his gut.

"Nothing, my King," Dagon sighs. "Not even so much as a set of tracks."

"The same for me, your majesty." Liel adds. "It was odd. We didn't even find any of the normal forest dwellers. It was as if they had all been driven away."

"What of Captain Tauriel's patrol? Did they turn anything up?" Thranduil asks.

"I'm sorry, my King. Tauriel's patrol has not yet returned," Dagon tells him.

"I wouldn't worry too much just yet," Liel offers, catching the look on his face. "Tauriel has a habit of this after all. She probably got carried away."

Thranduil nods, knowing that does sound rather like Tauriel, but his stomach clenches, his instinct telling him something is wrong.

He dismisses the Captains, telling them he will get back to them on their next assignments.

Once they are gone, Thranduil begins massaging his temple, all of the sudden very drained.

"Where are you?" He whispers to the empty room.

X

After doing all she could for Grond, and being allowed to use the semi privacy of the bushes near camp to relieve herself, Tauriel is once more tied to her post.

She spends the day in silence, intermittently watching Grond sleeping (now peacefully), and watching the sun trail across the sky.

As it begins to get dark, she can feel her anxiousness growing.

_The other patrols will be arriving now. Ready to report._

When the sun has completely disappeared, and the moon has risen, Tauriel catches herself chewing the inside of her cheek, enough to draw blood.

_They'll be missing us now… sighing and shaking their heads over Tauriel, the eternal rule bender._

_Will he know? Is he worried?_

She pictures her King, pacing back and forth in his office, cursing her foolishness under his breath.

It almost makes her smile.

Tauriel swears to herself that if she—  _when_ she gets out of this, she will tell him. She will tell him everything she's been too afraid to even acknowledge to herself.

_I won't make the same mistake I made with Kili._   _I won't wait until it is too late._

With comforting thoughts about they're reunion, Tauriel allows herself to drift off into some much needed sleep.

X

Much as Tauriel had pictured, Thranduil spends most of the night pacing holes into the rug of his council chamber's floor.

_Something is wrong. Tauriel knows better than to be this late._

_Unless of course she found something, or believed she was on the verge of finding something._

_Foolish girl…_

He tries to repeatedly remind himself that she is a skilled warrior, and can no doubt handle herself.

_Not against an army of Orcs._

At one point, late in the night, Thranduil tries to retire to his chambers. He even manages to fall asleep, albeit briefly.

He is plagued by nightmares.

_He is back in Gundabad… he turns just in time to see Gilrin throw Legolas out of the path of the fire serpent._

_The beast draws it's head back preparing to spit, and Thranduil runs as fast as he can to save her, dodging rocks and the bodies of his fallen soldiers._

_Just as the creatures gives a giant blast of fire, Thranduil blinks and where Gilrin once stood now stands Tauriel._

_She is watching him, and as if in slow motion she reaches her hand out to him, and he knows he will not reach her in time._

_Flames surround her, and he screams in anguish, swinging his sword and cutting the beast down before launching himself into the fire._

_Every nerve in his body screams in protest, but he must get to her._

_He can feel her, and he tries to pull her into his arms to shield her._

_The fire subsides, and when the smoke clears Thranduil looks down to find nothing in his arms but ashes._

He wakes shouting.

" _No!_ "

Sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat, he knows something is wrong.

He doesn't know  _how_ he knows, but he does.

Knowing he will find no more sleep tonight, Thranduil dresses and goes to his garden.

_Our garden_.

He feels so much closer to her here. If he sits still, just by the edge of the pond, and listens intently, he can almost hear her voice.

_Asking for help._

The next morning, when there is still no sign of Tauriel's patrol, Thranduil sends out another patrol to inspect her route and look for signs if trouble.

Sitting alone in his council chambers, Thranduil hears his door spring open loudly without so much as a single knock. He looks up expectantly, thinking of only one person so brash, but is disappointed at what he sees.

_Two_ , he thinks,  _two people so brash._

"She's still not back yet? What's happened to her?"

Thranduil sighs and looks over Tauriel's maid appraisingly.

"I know no more than you do," he admits. "She was due back last night, and no one has seen or heard from her yet."

"And what are you doing about it?" the maid, Arodeth he thinks, demands.

"I've sent out a—" he begins, but is cut off by yet another intruder.

"Where are they? What is going on?"

"Lord Arradon," Thranduil says, exasperated, "as I was just telling… Arodeth here, we don't know where they are. We've sent out scouts to check her eastern route, but so far they have found nothing."

"Eastern? What about their new orders?" Arradon asks.

Thranduil is confused.

"What new orders?"

"The new orders you gave Tauriel! Sending her west!"

"Tell me what you know," Thranduil demands.

"I went to see them off, and when we were at the front gate one of her patrol members, Echtel, came running up with a scroll from you. It had your seal on it. Tauriel opened it and said their route had been shifted," Arradon explains.

_My seal was missing…_

_Someone changed their orders and now they are missing._

Thranduil decides then and there that now is not the time to play cat and mouse political games. Now is the time for action.

"Arradon, lead me to your father.  _Now,_ " Thranduil orders.

The boy only hesitates a second and they are on the move, leaving a confused and worried maid in their wake.

Arradon leads him through the palace, all the way to Lord Haewon's rooms.

When they burst in they find Lord Haewon still in his morning robe, having breakfast.

"W—What is the meaning of this?" he sputters, looking nervously from his King to where his son is locking the door.

Thranduil only sees red. He strides across the room and wraps his long fingers around the councilman's neck, pulling him from his chair.

"Tell me where she is," he says, loosening his grip slightly so Haewon may speak.

"I—I don't… know what you're t— talking about."

"I will no longer play your games!"

Thranduil tosses the man to the floor.

"S—son," Lord Haewon begs, looking to Arradon.

"You had best start talking," is all Arradon says, fierceness in his eyes to rival Thranduil's.

"Tauriel's patrol was given false instructions, and now they are missing. Tell me where to find them!" Thranduil booms.

"I really don't know what— what you're talking about. I had nothing to do with this!"

"Save your lies! You have been working to undermine me for months! First with that farcical trial against Tauriel, and then by spreading rumors of the two of us, trying to call my judgment into question!" Thranduil lets all the anger he's been holding back these last few weeks spill over. "I know you are the one controlling the rogue Orc army and I know you know where Tauriel is.  _Tell me._ "

"O—Orc army? You  _are_ mad!" the councilman scoffs. "The rest is true! I will admit it! I feel like you are putting our people at risk with all of these new changes and I have worked to call your judgment into question, but only because others cannot see it yet! But I don't know anything about any Orcs, or about Captain Tauriel… I don't know anything that goes on beyond these palace walls!

Thranduil gives a humorless bark of laughter.

"Really?" he asks. "Then tell me, my Lord, how did you know that I was attacked by a spider before anyone aside from those there knew if you weren't the one who orchestrated the attack?"

"T—the spider? Lady Neleth told me about the attack!"

Thranduil freezes, his mind racing.

"Stay with him," he tells Arradon, pointing to the councilman. "Don't let him leave."

X

_They're looking… he's looking… they have to be looking for us._

Tauriel tilts her head back as far as she can and stares up at the cloudy sky.

"They'll know something is wrong by now," Grond says quietly.

Tauriel glances over to see him watching her.

"You should still be resting," she chastises. "You're still very weak."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for you," he tells her. "I can live with weak."

There's a commotion across the camp that draws both of their attention. Two Orcs seem to be arguing with one another.

They watch as one suddenly begins stabbing the other.

Erwarth comes running out of his tent and starts yelling for everyone to break it up. They listen, but not without a fair amount of grumbling.

Catching the two of them watching, Erwarth comes over to Tauriel and Grond.

"You're losing control," Tauriel remarks, unable to help herself.

"A few dissenters here and there is to be expected," he sneers. "It's in their nature."

"Why are you doing this?" she asks. "What could Lord Haewon offer you that could possibly worth working with these foul creatures?"

"Lord Haewon?" Erwarth asks, confused.

"Councilman Haewon. The bastard you're working for."

Erwarth laughs.

"That spineless little whisper monger? No, no, no. I'm not working for him. I work for Councilwoman Neleth."

X

Two corridors down from Lord Haewon's room, Thranduil finds Lady Neleth's chambers.

He doesn't bother knocking; he walks right in, closing the door silently behind him.

Lady Neleth is on the other side of the room, facing away from him, staring into a mirror while pinning her hair up.

"I wondered when you would get here," she says conversationally.

"It… was you? All this time it's been you?"

"It took you long enough," she laughs, "though, in your defense, I  _am_ a very convincing actress."

Pieces start to click together in Thranduil's mind.

"You fed me information about Lord Haewon to distract me," he says.

"That fool was a gift from above. The perfect distraction. The best thing was he was  _actually_  trying to destabilize your rule. I emphasize  _trying_. No one really bought into that slop about you and your precious Captain. Well, aside from me. I knew it when I saw you look at her. I recognized that face… the same one that sealed my fate so many centuries ago when you looked at that simpering  _delicate flower_ Gilrin."

She shakes her head, and he can see the look of disgust on her face, reflecting in the mirror.

"As soon as you started inviting her over for dinners, and bonding over your losses, I knew she'd have to be dealt with," Neleth continues.

"You sent those soldiers after her? Erwarth and Langon?"

"It was easy enough. Do you know how deeply many of our people still despise dwarves? It took hardly any convincing."

"The other night," Thranduil remembers. "You weren't in my office for your  _scroll._  You were there to steal my royal seal! You changed Tauriel's orders."

Neleth only watches him in the mirror, saying nothing.

"Where is she? What did you do to her?" he demands, heart pounding fearfully.

"Oh don't worry. She's still alive… for now."

"What do you want?" Thranduil asks, his heart in his throat.

"Isn't that obvious, dear?" Neleth asks, turning to finally face him, wearing a wicked smile. "I want to be Queen."

* * *

**Author's Note:** o_o

Can't wait to hear what you think! Again, thank you so much for all the support, you really don't know how much it means to me!


	21. Plan of Action

" _I want to be Queen."_

Thranduil stands perfectly still, not even blinking as he tries to process her words.

"I don't understand," he finally says, her plan still a jumbled knot of frayed string in his mind.

"What is there to understand? It is fairly simple," Neleth says with a shrug. "I want you to complete the bargain our parents struck when we were children."

"Why? You don't… you're not—?"

"In love with you?"

She tosses her head back and laughs, the chiming melodic sound so at odds with her newly revealed personality.

"No, no," she continues still laughing. "Is that a difficult concept for you? It must be. I know how you must be so used to those court slatterns throwing themselves at your feet."

Thranduil doesn't respond, instead just watching her closely as she saunters his way.

"Perhaps I thought myself in love with you once," she sighs, "when I was younger. I mean, no one could deny your appeal; Thranduil, son of Oropher, glorious warrior and future King. Not now, though."

"Then I am afraid I don't know what you want."

"I  _want_  to rule."

Neleth stops in front of him, just inches away, and Thranduil has to fight the urge to strike out at her.

"Why would I agree to marry you? To give you power over my kingdom?" he asks, already knowing her answer.

"Because if you don't, Tauriel will die."

X

"You're lying," Tauriel accuses Erwarth, knowing he has no reason to do so at this point.

"I don't care if you believe me, but I'm not lying. Lady Neleth has some truly wonderful plans laid out. She's a visionary," Erwarth tells her, his voice taking on an almost dreamy quality.

Before Tauriel can say another word, Erwarth turns and retreats back to his tent.

"Do you think it's true?" Tauriel asks, turning to look at Grond.

The look he gives her answers his question before he even opens his mouth.

"I think that's much more likely than Lord Haewon being the culprit," he says. "I can understand why you would think it was him, but honestly I don't think the man is smart enough to be the mastermind behind such a conspiracy."

The low level panic that has been in Tauriel's stomach for days flares to life, stronger than ever. All she can suddenly see is Lady Neleth and Thranduil pressed close together over his desk, and talking business over late dinners.

_He has no idea how much danger he's in!_

_I need to get out of here._

"We need to get back," Tauriel whispers, speaking out of the corner of her mouth so no one will pay attention to them.

"To be honest I can't say that has not crossed my mind," Grond says sarcastically.

He shifts, trying to sit up straighter, and grunts in pain.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, worry clouding her features.

"I'll live. Well, probably… but I don't think I'd be mush help in a daring escape."

She snorts.

"Just let me know if you think of one. I'm afraid I'm at a loss."

X

"What makes you think I would hand over half my kingdom for the life of one soldier?" Thranduil asks, voice icy and trying his hardest to stand tall.

"We're not going to play  _that_  game now, are we? We both know she is much more than a soldier. Don't bother denying it."

"Even so, that is one life weighed against the lives of thousands."

"It's not as if I plan to go on a murderous rampage as Queen," Neleth scoffs. "I want to help our people! I want to give them back what you stole!"

"What is that?" he asks.

" _The light._ Your fear drove us into the shadows, and we have been living but half lives for centuries now, cowering like vermin lest we draw the attention of something bigger and more sinister than us."

"I suppose this plan of yours to… return the light… somehow involves an army of Orcs?"

"Yes, but all in good time, my dear. I won't spell everything out for you just yet. Why don't we leave a little mystery for the honeymoon?"

Neleth eyes him shrewdly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine. I can wait," she says when he refuses to reply.

"Wait for what?"

She smiles wickedly once more.

"You don't really think you can survive another loss like this, do you? I remember losing Gilrin almost killed you. Your light would have faded had it not been for Legolas. Do you think he'll be able to help you this time? To help bring you back from the pain of losing the woman you pushed  _him_  away from?"

She sighs and shrugs.

"He's so very far away from home… who is to say he'll even make it back in time? If he ever makes it back, that is."

Thranduil close the distance between them, his icy eyes raining glacial fury down upon her.

"You dare threaten my son?"

"Of course not, my King," Neleth says sweetly. "In fact perhaps it would be easier dealing with Legolas. He'll be eager to shift away from your policies when he learns of your betrayal. The betrayal to him, and to his mother's memory."

Thranduil says nothing, seething in anger as he watches the woman before him, contemplating tossing her from the nearest window he can find.

She reaches up to place a hand on his cheek, and he tries to hold the bile rising in his throat back.

"So, my King," she coos, "what do you say? Will you trade your hand for Tauriel's life?"

Thranduil's mind races, running through all the options he is left with, and Neleth just shakes her head.

"You cannot out-maneuver me on this," she insists. "I have eyes and ears all over, much closer to you than you would imagine. If I go missing, or am thrown in jail, or if you send out another search party, they will know and the order for her execution will be given. You have only one choice where everyone comes out of this alive."

He knows she must have overlooked  _something,_  there has got to be a detail, or scenario she never imagined, but until he sees it, Thranduil must play along.

"Shall we send out save the dates, or do you wish to elope?" he asks dryly, rage and distaste emanating from him in crashing waves.

"No need for either. We'll marry at the next full moon, and tonight," she smirks, "you can ask Lord Elrond to perform the ceremony."

With all that has been happening, Thranduil had forgotten that tonight is the night Lord Elrond will be arriving… and the next full moon is in two days.

"I will not tolerate any trickery. You will not say anything to Lord Elrond about your  _motivations_ , and you will not act as if anything is amiss. You are to continue about your business as usual."

Thranduil stares at the woman in front of him and wonders how he could have misread her so thoroughly. He had never paid her much mind beyond the council meetings, and had somehow overlooked her inherent maliciousness.

"Do we have a deal?" she asks.

He knows what Tauriel would say. She would warn him against making a deal with this woman even if it meant sacrificing her life… but he is also fairly certain that were their positions exchanged, and he were the one in danger, Tauriel would do whatever she could to save him; even if he wouldn't want her to.

"I'll be wearing red tonight," he tells her, his tone clipped. "It is customary for betrothed to compliment one another."

"Such a romantic," Neleth mock sighs.

Thranduil gives her one more withering glare before turning on heel and marching out of her chambers.

He is about to storm back to his own rooms and fume when he remembers Arradon is still guarding his father, so he instead heads back to Lord Haewon's chamber.

When he arrives, Haewon is sitting back down at his table, sullenly watching his son, as Arradon leans pompously against the wall by the door, seemingly unfazed by his task.

"Well?" Arradon asks, standing up straight when Thranduil reenters. "What happened?"

"Lord Haewon, I hereby strip you of your role as councilman, for the crimes of slander against myself, and members of my guard. You are confined to castle grounds until further review is made, and your punishment decided," Thranduil says. "There is no need for you to continue guarding him, Arradon. You may return to your music."

Haewon stands up, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping out of water, but his sputtering is unintelligible and Thranduil leaves before he finds his tongue.

It doesn't take long for Arradon to catch up to him.

"Tell me what is happening? Is Lady—?" he tries to ask, but Thranduil cuts him off.

"Not here," he mutters from the corner of his mouth. Then much louder he adds, "Yes, I have time this afternoon. You can bring your sheet music then and show me what you want to discuss about the banquet."

Arradon is quick on the uptake and nods.

"Thank you, my King. I appreciate your time."

He gives Thranduil a small bow and turns to walk in the opposite direction.

X

Throughout the day Tauriel and Grond watch as two more fights break out amongst the Orcs, leading to several more casualties.

One of the fights includes at least four of the creatures tearing into one another at the edge of camp.

Tauriel watches as one Orc rips a dagger from it's shoulder and tosses it behind him, right near the bushes she's been allowed to use to relieve herself.

When she looks over to Grond he's already watching her and she knows he saw it as well. She nods once, and an understanding falls between them.

_Tonight._

Trying to pass the time, and keep the nervous energy at bay, the two start talking, swapping stories, in between being told to shut up by their captors.

Grond tells Tauriel about his early days in the guard, and how limited his duties used to be, back when the kingdom was much more shutoff than it is now. How he used to be stuck as a gate guard.

"I can see why they would do that," she shrugs. "I mean… you are pretty intimidating. If an enemy saw you at the gate, they would probably second guess their plan."

Grond just gives her a sarcastic side-eye.

"Alright," Tauriel sighs, "I have to ask. What is with the hair? Don't get me wrong, I like it, and it suits you, I've just never seen an elf wear their hair in a bun before."

"Pretty simple answer," he tells her. "Once, in the middle of a fight, I was focused on the guy in front of me, when the guy behind me grabbed hold of my long braids and yanked me backwards. I was on the ground about to be finished, and would have been, if not for one of our archers taking him out. Since then though, I don't like to leave my hair down. I consider it a tactical advantage."

"Hmm."

Grond opens his mouth to say something else, but gasps, and doubles forward as far as he can.

"Are you okay?" she asks, worried.

"It's… getting… worse again."

"Okay, shhh. No more talking," Tauriel orders. "Try to rest. We'll get you help soon."

X

Within forty minutes, Arradon is being escorted into Thranduil's council chambers, a stack of music in his hand.

"Your Majesty," he begins, "I had a few ideas I wanted to discuss with you. I felt some of the changes I want are perhaps drastic, and want to ensure your approval beforehand. I thought that perhaps if we added another row of musicians to—"

"Yes," Thranduil sighs, "just a moment. Nimmon, could you have some wine sent in? Ask that maid, what's her… Arodeth. Tell her I want the same year she brought me last time."

"Yes, my King," Nimmon bows, showing himself out, and closing the door behind him.

"I don't know whom I can trust," Thranduil tells Arradon, standing up from his desk. "Aside from you, and that meddling maid of Tauriel's."

"Is it true? Lady Neleth is behind Tauriel and her patrol's disappearance? Behind this supposed Orc army?"

"I'm afraid so. She says she has eyes everywhere, and if I don't comply with her demand, or if anything happens to her, her people will ensure Tauriel is executed."

"Do you believe her, that there are really spies all around?" Arradon asks, glancing around the room, paranoid.

"I don't know, but it isn't a bluff I'm willing to call."

"What is it she is demanding?"

"Lady Neleth is demanding that we marry," Thranduil explains, the words leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

"What? But… even if you do marry her, why would she free Tauriel? What's to stop her from continuing to hold her hostage and use her as leverage?"

"Nothing. Which is why you're here. I need your help."

"Of course! What do you need?" Arradon asks, puffing up.

"You were there when Tauriel got the change of orders, do you know where they were heading?"

"Yes! She said they were heading off southeast from where the Enchanted River bends, towards the mountains. Your search parties were in the wrong area. You need to send a patrol out, now."

"I can't," Thranduil explains, "I can't trust them, and I can't trust that word won't get back to Neleth. Which is why I have to go myself."

Arradon is just about to argue, when Arodeth walks in, carrying a platter with wine and goblets, and wearing a sincerely confused expression.

Arradon closes the door behind her quickly.

"I've never brought you wine," she tells him, setting the tray down on his desk. "I assume there is something you wished to share, but wished to keep quiet as well?"

Thranduil quickly catches the maid up, and Arradon blocks the door when she threatens to go beat Neleth over the head with a six-hundred year old bottle of wine.

"I need your help," Thranduil tells her, "both of your help. You are the only ones I trust."

"Why?" Arodeth asks. "Why do you trust us?"

"Because in all my time as King you two, and Tauriel, are the only ones I can ever remember bursting in on me unannounced, and most of the time fuming," he says dryly. "I know you care for her, and therefore I know I can trust you."

"What can we do?"

"Arradon, I need you to get a message to Lord Elrond tonight after dinner… after I announce my betrothal. Just get him to understand I am being blackmailed, and need his assistance. I know I can trust him as well. I need as much time as I can buy to get to Tauriel and her patrol before Neleth knows I'm gone," Thranduil explains. "Tell him I want him to seek Neleth out tomorrow morning, and keep her busy preparing the ceremony for as long as he can."

"And me?" the maid asks.

"I need you to divert anyone away who wishes to see me tomorrow. You are to serve me, and you alone. Tell people I'm sick, tell them I have a case of pre-wedding jitters, just keep everyone out of my bedchambers lest they realize I am gone."

"I'm going with you," Arradon says matter-of-factly.

"I'm going on my own."

"There are three reasons that is not happening. One, I may not be a guard member any more, but I still cannot let my King go into danger without assistance. Two, you don't know what shape they are going to be in, and may need help getting them back. Three, you are not the only one who cares, and King or not, shy of driving your blade into my heart you will not stop me from finding them."

Arradon stares Thranduil down defiantly, refusing to back down, until finally Thranduil curses under his breath.

"Fine," he says. "We leave tonight, as soon as you speak to Lord Elrond."

* * *

**Author's Note:** A little shorter than the last chapter, but I thought this a good place to stop... just before everything hits the fan! Can't wait to hear your thoughts! As always, thank you for the wonderful reviews! 3


	22. Reunions

Thranduil can't remember the last time he felt so jittery dressing himself. Perhaps for his wedding day… or his coronation. It was definitely on a day that marked a huge shift in his future.

Just like tonight.

His future, and Tauriel's, is dependent on his behavior and decorum at tonight's dinner. Thranduil must leave no doubt in his "sincerity" about marrying Neleth, not so much for her sake, but for the sake of everyone else there.

If anyone suspects anything, and raises questions, there is no guarantee how Neleth will respond, and he cannot allow his actions to bring any harm to Tauriel.

_I will do my best to embody a devoted suitor,_  he thinks, cringing.

Thranduil is thankful for the fact that Elves are not nearly as romantically forward in public as mortals. He couldn't stand the idea of having to cuddle, touch, or heavens forbid  _kiss_ , her all evening.

He frowns distastefully.

Then he pushes Lady Neleth from mind and replaces her image with Tauriel. There is something quite pleasing, perhaps even a bit wicked, about the thought of displaying his affections for Tauriel publicly. For everyone to see, and know that she is claimed.

Thranduil can't help but smile, thinking of her no doubt angry response at being referred to as  _claimed_ , as if she were a possession.

His smile fades as quickly as it appears, and he reminds himself of the dire circumstances they are both in, and how he must focus fully if he ever wants to hear Tauriel's voice again; angry or otherwise.

With a sigh, he finishes clasping his blood-red robe, and gives himself an appraising look in the mirror.

Inhaling deeply, and standing tall, he puts on the air of superiority he is so well known for, despite not feeling it at all.

When he steps outside of his bedchambers into the hall he finds two guards ready to escort him to the front gates to meet Lord Elrond's party.

Just before he strides out of the front doors, Lady Neleth swoops in; undoubtedly she had been lingering nearby waiting for him.

"Hello, my sweet king," she purrs as she falls into step beside him.

"My Lady," he responds, pleased when his words come out sounding natural, rather than as the snarl that's growing in the back of his throat.

Neither of them speak again as they make their way outside, the rest of the greeting party joining them as they go.

Right on time, Lord Elrond and his group arrive, and Thranduil feels the slightest surge of relief at the sight of his friend. If he ever needed one, now is the time.

"Elrond," Thranduil says, genuinely beaming as Lord Elrond dismounts from his horse. "The seasons have been kind to you, dear friend. I hope the roads were as well?"

"Indeed they were," Elrond smiles, stepping forward. "I can see the effect your recent policy changes have effected."

The two place closed fists over their hearts and bow to one another.

As he straightens up, Thranduil scans the rest of Elrond's party, his gaze coming to rest on one person in particular.

"This cannot be your young Arwen?" he says, approaching her, and reaching out for her hand. "It has been centuries, my dear, since I last saw you. And such a tiny thing you were then."

Arwen smiles softly at him, and glances around nervously, letting her dark hair fall to cover much of her face

"It is a pleasure to see you again, King Thranduil," she tells him.

"Please, such formalities are not required," he insists waving her words away.

"I thought this the perfect teaching opportunity," Elrond explains. "You can only learn so much about diplomacy from books."

Releasing Arwen's hand, Thranduil returns to Lord Elrond, nodding his agreement.

"You and your party will be shown to your accommodations so you may freshen up from your journey, and when you are ready, the… lovely Lady Neleth here," Thranduil introduces as smoothly as possible, gesturing to Neleth, " has arranged a welcoming dinner we would be honored for you to attend."

Lord Elrond takes a smiling Neleth's hand and bows.

"Your hospitality is much appreciated. We will be ready shortly."

The rest of the welcoming party leads Lord Elrond and his group away, into the palace as Thranduil and Neleth hang behind to watch.

"That was not so difficult, was it?" she chimes.

Not gracing her with a response, Thranduil shoots her a cool look and marches inside.

It doesn't take long for his guest to ready themselves for dinner, and Thranduil suspects they must be hungry for something other than trail food, and ready for a soft bed.

Lady Neleth sits on one side of him, and Lord Elrond on the other. She's doing her best to be charming, and Thranduil begrudgingly admits she's doing so admirably.

She's just finished some funny anecdote or another (Thranduil wasn't really listening, so he fakes laughing along with the others), when Elrond turns his attention to him.

"Tell me friend, how have you been?" he asks. "I was saddened to hear of the losses you sustained," Elrond says apologetically. "While losses such as that cannot be so easily overcome, I do hope things are improving?"

Beneath the table Neleth nudges Thranduil harshly.

_Here we go…_

"Actually, things have taken a surprising… and welcome turn," he says, drawing on his feelings for Tauriel as strength. "I have an announcement to make."

Thranduil swallows the bile threatening to rise and clinks his fork on the side of his goblet, calling the attention of the table.

All eyes are on him; Elrond, Arwen, and their travelling companions, and the members of Thranduil's council.

"In these times of great stress," he begins, "I have found something I never thought to find again. I have found myself in love. I never dreamed I would ever be in such a place again, where my very soul calls out for another so desperately, but here we are. I have denied it for far too long, and can no longer contain it within myself."

_Flaming red hair dancing in the breeze, haunting green eyes, and mischievous smile…_

Thranduil takes a deep breath and holds his hand out to Lady Neleth, biting his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"I would like to announce my betrothal to the  _enchanting_  Lady Neleth," he announces, his voice hitching slightly, and he hopes it can just be attributed to overwhelming emotion.

_That is true… I'm overwhelmed by disgust._

There is a polite smattering of applause and congratulations from around the table, quite a few surprised looks, and several whispers, but overall it does not take long for the topic to switch.

"We've decided to marry at the next full moon," Thranduil tells Elrond.

"So soon?"

"We… see no need to wait. And I had hoped that since you are here you would consider performing the ceremony?"

"I would be honored," Elrond smiles, nodding.

Lady Neleth sweeps Lord Elrond into conversation and Thranduil buries himself in his wine goblet.

When he comes up for air he finds everyone at the table preoccupied; all except for one.

Arwen is watching him, her brow furrowed as if she is confused. When he catches her staring, she blushes slightly and looks down, but continues to glance up at him through her hair throughout the rest of the meal.

After dinner draws to a close, Thranduil and Lady Neleth stand by the door to the dining chamber to wish everyone a goodnight as they exit.

Lord Elrond and his daughter are the last two to exit, and the four of them begin walking together.

Neleth is quick to sweep Elrond into conversation and the two pull ahead, leaving Thranduil and Arwen to trail behind.

Arwen is still watching him closely, whenever she thinks Thranduil can't see her, until finally he has to say something.

"Is there something troubling you, Arwen?" he inquires. "You've been studying me all evening."

She takes a long moment to respond.

"There is nothing troubling  _me_ ," she replies, "but can you say the same?"

"I am afraid I don't know what you mean."

"When you made your announcement earlier, I sensed  _something_  was off. I assumed you were lying," she admits.

"I see," he says thoughtfully. "And do you still assume that?"

"No."

"Good—"

"I know you are not lying about your feelings," Arwen interrupts, "but you were lying about whom you have them for."

She nods to Lady Neleth walking in front of them.

"It is a terrible thing to lie about love," she chastises softly.

"And yet," Thranduil sighs tiredly, "sometimes we must  _do_ terrible things  _for_ the ones we love."

On that note, Thranduil and Neleth take their leave of Elrond and Arwen.

"Would you like to join me in my room to  _celebrate_  or engagement?" Neleth asks him suggestively.

Thranduil scowls.

"As…  _tempting_ as that sounds, I have to start working on tomorrow's hangover."

"As long as you don't try anything foolish," Neleth warns before blowing him a kiss and sauntering away.

Thranduil hurries back to his own rooms and begins preparing for his departure.

He changes into more practical clothing, arms himself with his swords, and packs a small bag. He's not sure what shape Tauriel or her patrol will be in, so he makes sure to take some medical supplies; fresh linen, herbs, and salves.

After that, Thranduil paces his chamber impatiently for over an hour before there is a soft knock on his door.

He rushes to open it and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds Arradon on the other side.

Thranduil quickly ushers him inside and closes the door again.

"Well? Did you speak with Lord Elrond?" he presses.

"Yes, yes, I explained everything," Arradon reassures, "he seemed quite concerned, but promised to help in whatever way possible. There's just… one thing…"

"What?"

"His daughter, Arwen was there when I went to speak to him, and I thought since you trusted Elrond so much it— it wouldn't be a problem if I spoke in front of her, but when I explained everything, it didn't seem to faze her. She almost seemed… smug. You don't suppose she could be working with Councilwoman Neleth, do you?"

Thranduil snorts.

"No, there is nothing to worry about," he insists. "I promise. But now we really need to be on our way."

"I'm ready," Arradon assures him, puffing his chest out.

Thranduil nods, and they quietly slip out of the room.

X

The day is the longest so far of their captivity, Tauriel feels. She knows it only seems that way because of her nerves and anxiousness, but her awareness does nothing to speed up the passage of time.

It doesn't help matters that Grond seems to be worsening again, falling in and out of sleep, leaving Tauriel nothing to do, but watch on in helplessness and concern.

It's not until the sun begins to set that a sense of calm falls over her.

_It's almost time._

When darkness settles everything changes, and it is as if Tauriel is watching everything in double speed.

She waits until the camp goes silent, and the only ones left awake are her, Grond, and the Orc left to guard them.

Tauriel looks over to Grond and finds him the most alert he's been all day, and nods at him.

"Hey, ugly," she calls to the creature by the fire pit about twenty-feet away.

It only grunts.

"I need to use the facilities," she insists.

"You wait," it growls.

"I can't! Come on let me up. Erwarth said you would let me!"

When the beast doesn't respond, Tauriel sighs dramatically.

"I guess I could just call for him, I'm sure he would be thrilled to be called out for this." She sucks in a deep breath to yell, but the Orc interrupts, "H—"

It growls menacingly, but stomps over and begins to undo her bindings.

Tauriel struggles to her feet, her muscles seizing and cramping. She staggers a couple of steps towards the bushes, but it must not be fast enough because her guard shoves her and she stumbles forward.

She urges her body to listen to her, for her legs and arms to respond as she commands, and Tauriel can feel the adrenaline rush begin.

The Orc leads her to the bushes, and she could almost cry with relief when she spots the edge of the discarded dagger, thrown aside this morning, glinting in the moonlight.

Luck is with her and the Orc doesn't see the weapon.

"Do you mind?" she asks pointedly, and exaggerates the wobble in her legs.

Her guard curses in black speech, but angles himself away from her.

Tauriel squats down, and cautiously reaches for the blade. She takes a deep breath as her hand closes around the hilt, and as silently as she can, jumps up and onto the beast's back.

He has time to sputter no more than a syllable before she runs the blade across his throat, silencing him.

The Orc falls face first, briefly sputtering before falling quiet for good.

Tauriel looks around nervously, her hands shaking uncontrollably. It took much more effort to kill one Orc than she had anticipated after her days of captivity, and if anyone heard, she knows there is no hope for she and Grond.

There are no sudden war cries. No alarms sounding. No figures shuffling from tents.

_I did it._

Tauriel scrambles off of the creature's back and hurries, crouching, to Grond's side to begin sawing away at his bindings.

"Nice work," he groans. "You should really get moving."

"I'm trying," she tells him, sawing at his ropes.

"No, I mean  _you_ should get going. I'm in no shape for a 'daring escape'. I'll only slow you down."

Tauriel rolls her eyes.

"And  _I'll_ speed  _you_ up. Now shut up."

His restraints fall free and Tauriel wraps an arm around his waist and helps pull him to his feet.

Grond buries his mouth into his shoulder, muffling his cry of pain. He's not a light guy, and Tauriel struggles to help support him, but once he is fully standing, it becomes a little easier.

She suspects she is supporting about forty percent of his weight and isn't sure she can take much more.

"We need to move, come on," she orders, leading him towards the woods. "I don't know how much of a head start we have."

This time Grond doesn't argue, instead he focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

They travel, slowly, for the first hour not speaking.

"I… need a minute," Grond tells her, grimacing.

Tauriel nods and helps him sit.

"Let me see it."

He leans back and doesn't protest when Tauriel pushes his shirt up and starts pulling his bandage aside.

"You're bleeding again," she says.

"Like I s—said, I'm just slowing you down. You need to get to the king. T—to warn him."

"I will not leave a fellow soldier behind! Not after… I'm not losing anyone else, do you understand me?"

Grond doesn't reply.

Tauriel grabs a handful of hanging moss and uses it to pack around his wound before rewrapping him.

"That'll have to do for the moment. Now on your feet, soldier," she commands. "We have a lot of ground to cover, and I don't know how much time we have."

"Yes, Captain," he responds smartly.

It's almost dawn when they hear the first signs of their captors catching up with them.

"Get down," Tauriel whispers, pushing Grond into the brush.

A few minutes pass and she can hear several Orcs approaching. They walk right past Tauriel and Grond's hiding spot.

She's about to pull Grond up again, when she hears another group approaching, and she freezes.

This happens another three times before she gives up going anywhere anytime soon. It's too dangerous right now.

"You should get some sleep," Tauriel tells him. "Rest up while you can, we're not going anywhere right now."

"You should sleep," he argues.

"I'm not the one about to bleed out. Besides, you look ready to pass out whether you wish to or not, and one of us needs to stay on guard."

Grond mumbles a response, but he falls unconscious in under five minutes, much to her relief.

She lets him sleep for several hours, until enough time has passed without patrols searching nearby for Tauriel to feel comfortable venturing out again.

Gently jostling Grond awake, Tauriel is pleased to see how much better his complexion looks after a little rest while  _not_ tied to a post.

The sun is dipping low in the sky by the time they step out of their hiding place, with Grond still leaning heavily on Tauriel as they move.

"Let's go home," she tells him, and they set out once more.

X

Thranduil has no problem slipping both himself and Arradon out of the castle; no one knows it better than him.

_Except perhaps Legolas…_

Arradon insisted on leading the way once they made it into the forest, spouting some nonsense about needing to "protect his king", and Thranduil decided it was easier just to let him rather than argue.

They move stealthily, unsure about how far Neleth's web of spies spreads, and whether there are sentries in the forest.

Thranduil doubts her reach is as far as she claims, his people are loyal and such traitors are almost unheard of among the Elves, but he still traverses the trees with caution.

Around dawn they locate the missing patrol's camp.

There are clear signs of a struggle, most likely an ambush, and Thranduil grits his teeth, fury raging within.

"Blood," Arradon points out near one tree, "and it isn't Orc."

The two exchange solemn looks, neither voicing their fears.

"It looks like they went this way," Thranduil observes, and begins tracking the new trail with Arradon hot on his heels.

X

Tauriel feels the weariness seeping into her very bones as they press on, daylight fading around them. Captivity was not good to her, and having to support someone so much larger than herself as well is really affecting her. Much more than she'll admit to Grond.

Several times her feet seem to find rocks and roots to catch themselves on, almost sending her and her companion into the dirt, but she always manages to catch them before they fall.

Grond is more alert than ever, but his injury is still too severe for him to be much help; something Tauriel knows is tearing him up inside.

About a hundred yards to their left suddenly comes a loud rustling, and the pair looks at each other, silently agreeing there is no way for them to handle any attackers.

Instead of mounting a surprise attack, Tauriel veers them to the right, pushing them through some low hanging branches and trying to get as far away from the sound as possible.

They stumble forward another ten minutes before they hear more rustling; just the tiniest sound of shifting foliage, coming from right in front of them.

Tauriel reaches for her stolen dagger and braces, knowing there is no time to hide.

Everything shifts. Her whole world seems to click into place as she watches a tall ethereal figure step from the brambles in front of her.

"M—my King," she croaks, barely more than a whisper, half sure she's hallucinating.

"Tauriel," he sighs, his shoulders sagging as he steps towards her.

Branches break loudly drawing her attention, and Tauriel watches as Arradon bursts from the brush beside Thranduil.

Arradon catches sight of Tauriel and Grond, and his hand clamps over his mouth stifling a small sob.

He pushes past the king and rushes forward, eyes shining.

Tauriel catches the dark look that passes over Thranduil's face just before Arradon sweeps Grond away from Tauriel, wrapping him into a tight embrace.

Tauriel and Thranduil watch on in varying degrees of shock as Arradon cups Grond's cheek and leans back to inspect him.

"You're hurt," Arradon notes, voice strangled.

"The pain is irrelevant when I'm in your arms," Grond responds, leaning his head forward so the pair's foreheads touch.

Tauriel's lower lip trembles and she turns to Thranduil, who looks uncomfortable, though more because he's just been upstaged on the reunion front.

"You came to find me," she says softly, her tired feet carrying her forward.

"Of course I did."

Tauriel suspects the relief on Thranduil's face mirrors her own perfectly.

His hand reaches for her and she smiles, her dry lips cracking as she does so, but she feels no pain, just happiness.

Breaking branches, and crackling leaves sound on their left and suddenly a lone Orc warrior crashes through an opening just beside Thranduil, blade drawn.

"No!"

Without thinking, Tauriel shoves her king aside and places herself between him and the threat. The Orc swipes at her with his blade, but she dodges, a little slower than she intends, and strikes out with her stolen dagger, burying it in the beast's neck.

The Orc crumbles, and she looks for any other attackers, but finds none.

"Tauriel!" Thranduil cries, drawing her attention.

She turns back to face him where he sits on the forest floor. All the color drains from his face when he sees her, and she frowns, looking down.

"Oh," is all she manages when she sees the blood on her, before the world fades to black.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know! I'm a terrible person for stopping right there! Next chapter won't be as long as a wait. For those of you who don't follow my tumblr (allons-ymrholmes.tumblr.com), or may have missed it, I posted about the delay for this update. M husband is in the military and has been in Korea the last year, and is currently home for a month on leave, so I haven't had much time to write. He's home for another week, so I'm not sure if the next chapter will be up this week, but I won't leave you hanging as long as this one did.

Please let me know what you think!!


	23. Promises Kept

Thranduil watches Tauriel fall in slow motion, his heart jumping to his throat as he reaches out to grab her.

He catches her and drops to his knees, cradling her.

"Tauriel," he says, voice barely a whisper.

He's finding it hard to speak while it feels as if all the air has been pulled from his lungs.

"No, no, no," he murmurs, cupping her pale cheek as he supports her head.

Arradon is suddenly beside him, trying to take her away, but Thranduil won't let him. Not when he's just gotten her back.

"Wake up," Thranduil urges. "Tauriel…"

"Let me see," Arradon is begging.

Understanding clicks within Thranduil and he leans back, giving Arradon room to inspect Tauriel, while still refusing to let her go.

There's blood on her stomach where the Orc sliced her, and a pounding in Thranduil's ears that drowns out the world.

Arradon has to repeat himself several times before his words seem to make any sense.

"She's going to be all right," he's saying. "The blade barely grazed her. Just enough to draw blood, but not enough to do serious damage."

Thranduil doesn't dare believe him.

"Why is she… what…?"

"She's been captive for days; I think she's been pushed to her limit. She's passed out from exhaustion."

Thranduil looks her over for himself, now that the world has momentarily stopped spinning. He pulls at where the Orc's blade cut through her clothing to get a look at her wound. Arradon was right; it's barely more than a scratch.

A sigh of relief passes Thranduil's lips as he presses the back of his hand to her forehead. Her skin is clammy to the touch, but he is thankful that she isn't worse off.

"We need to get her back," he says, and then catching sight of the limping Grond, he amends, "we need to get  _them_ back. Now."

Arradon nods, and starts checking their surroundings.

"We can fashion a stretcher to carry her back on," he suggests, but Thranduil shakes his head no.

"I will carry her. Besides, you will need to assist Grond. He can barely walk, and you can't carry a stretcher  _and_ support him."

Before either of the other two men can argue, Thranduil scoops Tauriel fully into his arms and then, cradling her to his chest, he stands up and begins backtracking the way they came.

Behind him he hears Grond and Arradon whispering, but their (less than silent) footsteps assure him they are following.

Thranduil's pace never falters. Tauriel's weight in his arms is more of an encouragement than a burden, and never once feels anything aside from…  _right_.

If there is one thing Thranduil has learned, it's that he now knows there is nowhere in the world more fitting for Tauriel than in his arms.

After a few hours, Arradon calls out for Thranduil to stop.

"Grond needs to rest," he explains.

"No, I'm fine," Grond tries to argue. "We need to get her back home."

As much as Thranduil would prefer to keep moving, it is clear Grond isn't fairing well.

"She wouldn't want you hurting yourself further," Thranduil concedes. "Let's take a short break."

Grond looks like he wants to argue, but after he and Arradon share an intimate look Grond sighs and nods.

Arradon helps him to sit down on an overturned tree, and then sits beside him, leaning close so their heads are resting together.

Thranduil doesn't wish to set Tauriel down, but he'd like a chance to inspect her wound. Begrudgingly, he gently lays her on the softest patch of earth he can find, a lush patch of moss.

When he checks her stomach Thranduil finds that she is no longer bleeding, and relief flutters in his stomach like the wings of so many butterflies.

From his side, Thranduil removes a leather water pouch, and presses the spout to Tauriel's lips.

When the first few drops of water fall her mouth parts for more, and her eyelids begin to flutter.

"Tauriel?" he asks softly.

"Hmm?" she responds sleepily.

"You are safe now," Thranduil reassures her.

Her green eyes fight to stay open and focus on his face.

"With you," she murmurs.

Thranduil smiles tenderly.

"Yes, with me."

After that she slips back into unconsciousness.

Ignoring his other travelling companions, Thranduil smoothes Tauriel's hair away from her face and leans down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Grond is the first one to suggest moving on, and though Arradon gives him a chastising look he doesn't advise otherwise, so they continue.

To cut down on the their return time, they cut through a different path than the one they originally followed, going straight towards the palace, rather than following the curved route of Tauriel's patrol.

Thranduil doesn't know how they manage it, through sheer luck, or perhaps their enemy wishing to stay away from the borders of the kingdom, but they don't cross any more Orcs on their way.

They make it back to the palace before dawn on the day of what is supposed to be Thranduil and Neleth's wedding, slipping back into the safety of the cavernous halls without being spotted.

"You mustn't let him be spotted," Thranduil tells Arradon, gesturing to a dangerously paling Grond. "Get him back to your rooms. I'll send Arodeth to you to help you tend to him."

"What are you going to do about Neleth?" Arradon questions.

"I will deal with the councilwoman. If everything has gone to plan she's had no time to make contact with her  _people_ and she won't know of their escape. Just show up at the banquet tonight as if nothing were amiss."

Arradon nods, and then reaches out to gently clasp Tauriel's limp hand.

"Take care of her."

"I will," Thranduil swears before parting ways with the other pair.

He finds his own chamber doors, thankfully, unguarded and lets himself in quietly, scanning the room to see if he and Tauriel are alone.

They are not.

With hearing of a hawk, Arodeth springs awake from the chair she was perched in beside the door.

"You did it!" she exclaims, rushing over to them.

She's looking at Thranduil with what he swears is more respect than she's ever shown him before.

"Is she okay?" Arodeth asks following closely behind as Thranduil walks over to carefully place Tauriel in his bed.

"Yes, I think she'll be fine. I would like for Maereth to check over her however. Could you summon her for me? Tell her I have a patient suffering from exhaustion, and a small cut from a sword that needs treating."

Arodeth nods her head, but doesn't move, instead staring down at Tauriel as if to reassure her eyes that her friend is there and breathing.

"Did you have any trouble?" Thranduil asks the maid.

"Hmm? No, almost, but no. Lady Neleth showed up yesterday morning demanding to see you, but I told her you were unwell and were refusing  _all_ visitors. She was pretty vexed, up until Lord Elrond appeared and told her he recalled you being the same way before your first wedding," Arodeth explains. "He asked her if she would like to discuss wedding details, and that seemed to appease her. I haven't seen her since."

"Excellent."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"After you summon Maereth, could you go to Lord Arradon's rooms? His— Grond, one of Tauriel's patrol members, needs looking after," Thranduil tells her.

"Of course. I'll go right now."

Arodeth gives a half bow and backs away, but Thranduil stops her, reaching out to grab her hand.

"Thank you, Arodeth," he breathes. "You helped save her life too, and for that I will be eternally grateful."

Thranduil chastely kisses the back of her hand before releasing it and Arodeth blushes, but manages another small bow before stumbling towards the door.

When she's gone, he returns to Tauriel's side.

He perches on the edge of the bed and tries to get her to drink once more.

This time as her eyes flutter open, she seems more aware of her surroundings. She blinks rapidly, trying to force her eyes to focus.

X

Tauriel jolts a little, looking around her, and tries to sit up, but Thranduil rests his hand on her shoulder urging her to stay still.

"We're back," she rasps.

"Yes, we are, and you need to rest."

"I've been resting," she argues stubbornly, trying to sit up again.

"I hardly think struggling with unconsciousness as I carried you through the forest constitutes as  _rest_ ," he quips wryly.

If her head weren't spinning from sitting up so abruptly, Tauriel suspects it would be spinning at the image of her beautiful king carrying her through the forest to safety.

"Neleth," she breathes, suddenly remembering everything. "Lady Neleth! My King, it was the councilwoman who is behind the Orc army. She—"

"Shh, I know. It is being dealt with," Thranduil reassures her, once more pushing her back onto the bed.

"You know? How? And how did you find me? Is Grond okay? Did you know about him and Arrad— never mind, not important right now… How are you dealing with Neleth?"

Tauriel's questions come tumbling out one after another, her mind buzzing, whether from excitement or dehydration, however, she's not positive.

"Yes. I'm clever. Arradon. Grond is in good hands. I had no idea. And I'm marrying her."

Thranduil lists off his answers, counting them on his fingers as he goes.

All the blood drains from her face, and Tauriel suspects her already pale complexion has withered leaving her looking like a ghost.

"What do you— do you mean? M—Marrying her?"

"Well, I'm not  _actually_ marrying her," Thranduil scoffs, and Tauriel senses the feeling slowly return to her body.

Tauriel listens closely as Thranduil begins to tell her of everything that happened since her disappearance, and the challenges he faced trying to find away around Neleth's crazy scheme.

She has so many questions, but Thranduil refuses to answer any until she recounts the tale of her time in captivity.

Haltingly, Tauriel describes everything from Grond's injury, to her delusional state… to Echtel…

Bowing his head in silence, Thranduil squeezes her hand reassuringly.

"It's my fault," she croaks.

"No, no, it is not. The only one to blame in all of this is Neleth, and she will pay," he swears.

A knock on the door startles both of them, and before the king can respond the door opens suddenly.

Thranduil jumps up immediately, his stance falling to that of a warrior without hesitation.

From where she sits propped up on the bed, Tauriel can't see past her king to see whom their guest is. Soon enough, though, he relaxes and steps aside, revealing Maereth to Tauriel.

The healer looks unsurprised to see Tauriel, and she wonders if she knew she would be here. Though, to be honest, Tauriel doubts anything could faze the woman.

Not waiting for pleasantries, Maereth glides to Tauriel's side and begins examining her.

Maereth pushes Tauriel's shirt up to get a closer look at her stomach wound, and Tauriel looks on curiously.

She remembers being injured and seeing blood, but she has no clue the extent of the injury.

It doesn't look that bad in her opinion, it wasn't deep enough to hit anything major, perhaps just deep enough to scar.

Taking Tauriel's chin in her hand, Maereth turns her head left and right.

"Tsk, tsk," the healer murmurs.

"Is she alright?" Thranduil demands, rushing over and leaning in to stare at Tauriel's face.

"She needs food, water, and rest," Maereth instructs.

"And a bath," Tauriel mumbles.

She feels grimy and suspects her hair is a mess.

"She will be fine."

"How is Grond? I tried my best with his injury, but there was only so much they would allow me to do," Tauriel tries to explain.

"I have not seen him," Maereth replies.

"What? Why are you here? He needs you much more than I do!"

Tauriel tries to throw herself out of bed, but the two at her side push her back down, and even if they hadn't the dizziness would have leveled her.

"Go," she urges, trying to quell the queasiness. "I'm fine."

"I should at least try a small healing charm on your stomach, if I do not it may scar."

"Let it, I don't care. Help my friend!"

Maereth turns to Thranduil for confirmation and he gives her the slightest nod.

"He is in Lord Arradon's chambers," the king reveals.

Nodding and offering a small bow, Maereth takes her leave.

Tauriel scrunches her eyes shut and waits for the room to stop spinning.

She feels the edge of the bed dip beside her, and warmth of a hand as it intertwines with hers.

"I will not apologize," Thranduil tells her pompously. "He was walking around, albeit with the help of Arradon, but you were unconscious. I felt you required the more immediate care."

"Thank you," she says softly, squeezing his hand, "for caring."

"Tauriel, I—"

She opens her eyes to look at him, the earnestness in his voice reflected in the expression he wears.

"Would you like me to run you a bath?" he asks, looking away. "You said you…"

Tauriel thinks of everything she felt when she was being held prisoner, of all the things she swore to herself she'd say if she were given the chance, and replies,

"Yes, thank you. My muscles could use a good soak."

Thranduil squeezes her hand once more and leaves her, disappearing into what she assumes is his adjoining bathroom.

Burying her face in her hands, she admits to herself that promising to do something when you think you are going to die is a lot easier than actually doing the thing once returned to relative safety.

_What if I tell him how I feel and he doesn't feel the same way?_

Suddenly an army of Orcs seems preferable than the rejection she's now sure awaits her.

_He's so emotionally battered— not that I'm one to talk— what if I scare him away?_

When Thranduil re-enters the room, Tauriel tries to throw her legs over the side of the bed and stand up, but they shake under her weight and she almost falls back on the bed.

"Let me help you," he offers, coming to place a supportive arm around her waist.

He steers her into his bathroom and Tauriel is unsurprised at its lavishness.

It is three times the size of her bathroom, and filled with many more of what appear to be hair potions and tonics. On one side of the room is a large ornate vanity, lined with bottles of all shapes and sizes, and several beautiful brushes.

While the other side of the room houses a roaring fireplace, the true centerpiece, figuratively and literally, is the great marble bathtub big enough for two (perhaps three) full-grown people.

Thranduil escorts Tauriel right to the tubs edge, and she can smell the jasmine and honey in the steam.

"Thank you," she offers, partly as a dismissal.

"You can't even stand on your own," Thranduil observes. "Let me help you."

Looking up at him and biting the edge of her lower lip, Tauriel nods yes.

Neither of them speaks as he sits her down on a plush chair beside the tub and begins to help her undress.

Being nude in front of others is not a new concept to her; she's done it many times in her years, from being fitted by her seamstress, to Arodeth helping her recover, even going skinny dipping with Legolas and other members of the Guard. Nudity to Elves is not something shameful as it is to the mortals.

_It is natural._

Now, however, as Thranduil's hands brush over her bare shoulders, pushing the fabric of her sleeves down and leaving her exposed, she feels the tingle of a blush rising.

Not sure where to look, Tauriel settles on Thranduil's hands. His movements are smooth and efficient, and she's not sure whether she prefers that or not. She almost wishes there were some tremble to reveal that he is feeling as affected as she is.

X

It takes all of his self-control to keep his mind on task and prevent his eyes from lingering where they ought not to.

When Thranduil notices her blush, and the way her skin flushes  _everywhere_ , he almost looks to the heavens and begs to know why he is being tested?

Once he finishes undressing her, he glances to the tub and immediately notes there is no way in which she can climb in without hurting herself. So, taking matters into his own hands, or arms rather, he scoops her up.

Tauriel squeaks in surprise, and he considers other ways in which he might get her to make that same noise.

Cradling her to his chest as he had in the forest, Thranduil carefully lowers her into the steaming tub, soaking the arms of his robes as he does so.

The throaty moan she makes as the water envelopes her is truly unfair.

After removing his robe and shirt, leaving himself in just his trousers, he turns back to check on Tauriel and sees she has her head inclined, and looks as if she has no intention of moving any time soon.

_I'm in this deep,_  he thinks, and gathers some of the bottles and a brush from his vanity.

Thranduil moves the chair to set behind the head of the tub and seats himself.

Humming an ancient tune he begins to lather shampoo into Tauriel's matted hair, taking care to gently massage her scalp.

When she sighs in contentment, he smiles softly, but continues humming.

After the shampoo has been rinsed, he puts in a conditioning concoction of his own invention, and lets it sit.

"Can you lean forward?" he asks gently.

Tauriel complies, hugging her knees to give him access to her back, and Thranduil begins to rub small circles across her skin with a soapy cloth.

When her skin is slick with suds he drops the washcloth into the water and begins to massage her shoulders, carefully kneading the knots he finds until they dissipate.

Tauriel laughs softly.

"Yes?" he inquires.

"It's just, I bet there aren't many commoners who can say they have been bathed by a king."

"There is nothing common about you."

After he rinses and brushes her hair, Thranduil helps Tauriel stand in the tub so he can wrap her in a big fluffy towel and carry her back to his room.

He places her in the middle of his bed, and makes to walk away and retrieve her something to wear, but Tauriel catches his arm stopping him.

"Wait," she asks, "please just… stay."

Confused, but refusing to deny her anything, Thranduil sits down with her.

"There is something I must say," she admits, not meeting his eyes. "Something I promised myself when I was being held prisoner. I just don't know… if… how to—"

Making a decision and not allowing himself to second guess, Thranduil cuts her off mid-stutter.

"Tauriel, when I heard what happened to you, I too made a promise to myself," he begins. "I have known loss; I know the way it eats away at you, the way it steals parts of you until you are no longer someone you recognize. I have survived loss, for my son, I survived."

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil raises his hand to cup Tauriel's cheek, and stares deeply into her emerald eyes.

"If something had happened to you… if I had lost you… I can tell you I would  _not_  have survived it. You have made me a whole person once more. When we are apart it feels like I am missing a piece of my soul. Tauriel, I love you."

Thranduil can see the tears the spring to her eyes, and the way she blinks rapidly trying to hold them back, but he waits with bated breath for her response.

"I love you, too," she tells him, and for the first time in centuries, he can breath fully.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Please, please, let me know what you think! Also, a little spoiler-ish heads up for the next chapter (at the risk of sounding like a sea-captain) "Smut ho!" 

Anyways, my husband is back in Korea now (for anywhere between 6 months - 1 1/2 years), so my updates will probably be a little quicker. Thank you for you patience and all of your kind words <3


	24. Broken Traditions

" _I love you, too," she tells him, and for the first time in centuries he can breath fully._

Without pausing to consider the consequences, Thranduil puts all thought aside and pulls Tauriel into his arms.

She puts up no resistance and folds herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Thranduil becomes hyper aware of everything.

He can feel her heart pounding against his bare chest and the static charge of where her fingertips graze over his shoulder blades. He can smell the budding hint of pheromones through the haze of her jasmine and honey soap, and he can see the way her bottom lip trembles in anticipation as she looks up at him with bated breath.

Refusing to deny either of them any longer, Thranduil closes the distance between them and kisses her deeply.

Her lips are the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and, by the stars, he knows he'll never get enough of them. He tries to maintain his control; tries to be gentle and sweet, but she doesn't make it an easy task for him, pressing ever closer.

Her body molds to his perfectly, as if they were designed with one another in mind.

Tauriel shifts to sit on his on lap causing her towel to fall away, and they are suddenly skin to bare skin.

Everywhere their bodies meet sends shivers through him, and as he winds his hand in her hair to tilt her head back, allowing his lips access to her neck, her soft moans assure him he's not the only one well on his way to ecstasy.

His teeth graze her skin as he continues to pepper her with kisses, and Tauriel's nails dig into his back, urging him on.

X

Tauriel has never felt anything as exquisite as this in her entire life.

It feels as if there is something bubbling inside of her, growing with every kiss and each caress, and she doesn't know what will happen when it finally spills over.

_But heavens know I can't wait to find out._

She traces her fingers down his spine, letting her hands explore his back, loving the feel of his alabaster skin beneath her fingertips.

His hand, the one not twined in her hair, edges down her side coming to rest on her hip.

Everywhere he touches her she's on fire, and suddenly it's too much, the flames are too high and all she wants is to submit and be consumed.

She places her hands on either side of his face and pulls his head up to look at her. His icy blue eyes are burning in a way she's never seen before, and it both terrifies and thrills her.

Tauriel lets her head fall forward, so their foreheads meet.

"Please," she murmurs, not even sure what it is she's asking for. " _Please._ "

A guttural growl escapes Thranduil's throat, and the next thing she knows he has her pinned beneath him on the bed. The full weight of him lies across her as he bows his head to kiss her yet again.

This time there is nothing sweet or gentle about it, instead it is a clash of heat and want, all teeth and desire.

When he pulls back to look down at her, the expression he wears is one of reverence and she's never felt more beautiful than she does now, seeing herself reflected in his fevered eyes.

He brings one hand up to cup her breast and she sucks in a sharp breath, arching her back to meet his touch.

Thranduil returns his lips to her skin once more, darting his tongue out to tease her sensitive nipple, and then kissing his way down her stomach.

"My Tauriel," he murmurs, lips ghosting over her skin.

Placing his hands on her thighs he spreads her legs, exposing her center to him.

Bashfully, and longingly, Tauriel bites her bottom lip, watching him through her long lashes.

X

No further encouragement is necessary, he can see the look of need etched onto her face, and he dips his head to finally taste her.

When his tongue meets her core, Tauriel bucks her hips up in surprise, moaning loudly.

He smiles a satisfied smirk and places a hand on her stomach, his fingers splayed as if to hold her still.

In this moment all that matters is her; her needs, her pleasure, her wants… and he does everything to satisfy all of them.

Thighs trembling on either side of his head tell him she's getting close and he can hardly contain himself.

" _Thranduil_ ," she gasps, as her whole body begins to shudder.

He can't recall her using his name before, and the way it rolls off of her tongue is too much.

Groaning he pulls away from her, just long enough to quickly divest himself of his trousers, and then he is back.

X

Tauriel can still feel the remnants of mind-blowing pleasure coursing through her body as he lies atop her. His weight is heavy pressing against her, but not unpleasantly so.

He cups her cheek with one hand and looks down at her; she can feel his hardness pressing against her entrance.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, she closes her eyes, but he won't allow it.

"Look at me, Tauriel," he whispers.

It's not an order, or a command, but nevertheless she can't deny him.

She opens her eyes and meets his gaze, and before she even has a chance to draw another breath he enters her.

His eyes are dark with lust, but there's a thrill that runs through her as their gazes hold.

She fills a rush power as she realizes the king believed to be made of stone and ice is coming undone  _all for her._

He's the first one to give in, his eyes sliding closed as he tilts his head back and moans.

_He's so beautiful I could cry_ , she thinks suddenly, admiring the way his long golden hair falls around his face, tickling her skin.

His mouth is still open as he gasps for breath with each thrust and Tauriel wraps her arms around him and pulls herself up. She nibbles his bottom lip, sucking on it, and pulling him back down onto the mattress.

That now familiar bubbling starts again, boiling faster than before, and she barely has time to prepare herself before her nails are running down his back and she's gasping his name.

" _Oh, Thranduil…_ "

He gives another throaty growl and thrusts harder again, and again, and again until he finally gives his own moan of completion.

She can feel him spilling inside her as she still rides out waves of pleasure, and she realizes that all her life she's wanted to live among the stars but has been looking in the wrong direction. For right now she is soaring through a haze of lights and colors and has never felt closer to the heavens.

Thranduil collapses on top of her, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, and he tries to catch his breath.

Tauriel comes back to herself first and contents herself with playing with her king's gorgeous hair. She runs her fingers through it gently, until finally Thranduil rolls off of her.

Wrapping his arm around her, he pulls Tauriel against his side to cuddle.

She rests her hand contentedly on his chest, her fingers twirling in circles across his skin.

X

Hours later, when Thranduil wakes from a deep slumber, he's pleased to find Tauriel still curled against him.

_It wasn't just a dream_ , he thinks hazily, softly kissing her forehead.

Everything feels right with the world, and he doesn't think there is anything that could dampen his mood.

As if the universe enjoys proving him wrong, a loud pounding on his chamber door shatters his illusion.

Beside him, Tauriel jumps awake, looking around wildly.

In that moment Thranduil suspects he could be persuaded to give up half his kingdom if only for the obnoxious knocking to stop and leave him alone with Tauriel and her mussed hair and swollen lips.

"My King, I need to speak with you!"

_Neleth._

Tauriel's eyes lock on the door, her expression darkening.

"Stay here," Thranduil whispers, reluctantly climbing out of bed.

He slips on a robe and schools his features into a cool mask.

When he answers the door, he doesn't open it all the way, and stands so he blocks the view into the room.

"There you are!" Neleth chimes, exasperated.

"Here I am."

"Where have you been?" she demands.

"I've been right here. As I know you were already told. I have not been feeling the greatest."

"Pre-wedding nerves?" she asks, smirking.

"I suppose you could say that. What is it you need, Neleth?"

"Just wanted to inquire after the health of my soon-to-be husband. Is there something wrong with that?"

_Just wanted to make sure I am here and not traipsing around the forest foiling your plan._

"I'm fine. Thank you for your…  _concern_. If that is all?" he inquires waspishly.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Enjoy this moment, though,  _my love_. Very soon you won't be able to shut me out like this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a wedding dress to put on."

Without another word she turns on heel, sashaying away, pausing only once to throw him another look over her shoulder.

When he closes the door, Thranduil turns to find Tauriel standing just a few feet away, fully nude, but looking ready to charge into battle.

_She's magnificent_.

"It's alright, Tauriel. She's gone," he reassures her, walking over to wrap his arms around her.

"Why did you let her leave?" Tauriel demands, stepping out of his embrace.

"Because I need to let things play out, so we can discover who else is working with her."

"Play out? You don't mean you are actually going through with this sham of a wedding do you?"

"Of course not," he insists. "Do you really think I would do that? I know what I'm doing, Tauriel."

She blushes slightly and looks down at her feet.

"I'm sorry, my King. It isn't my place to question—"

" _Tauriel,_ " he says sharply, stepping towards her once more and taking her hand. "After what we just shared, do not slip back behind veils of courtesy… and I never again wish to hear you call me anything but my name when we are along together. Understood?"

She smiles softly and glances up at him.

"Yes, my Thranduil. I understand."

Once again hearing his name on her lips sends a shiver down his spine.

"My Tauriel," he replies softly, cupping her face and bending to give her kiss.

His hands begin exploring of their own accord, and she sighs against his lips, but steps out of reach again.

"What's wrong?" he asks, worried he crossed a line.

"Don't you have a wedding to prepare for?"

X

Helping the man she loves dress for his wedding to another woman, even a fake wedding, is not something Tauriel finds herself enjoying.

She can't banish thoughts of that wretched councilwoman from her mind… the woman responsible for Echtel's death.

Thranduil tries to insist that she stay in bed and rest, but Tauriel ignores him and tries to help. Eventually he gives up arguing and allows her to do so.

After she helps,  _or hinders_  (whatever you wish to call it), him fasten up his robes, she sits kneeling behind him on the bed, brushing his hair.

"Your hair is so soft," she muses as her fingers glide through it. "Much moreso than Legolas' hair."

Thranduil stiffens.

"What do you know of Legolas' hair and why?" he demands, and she can't help but laugh.

"He is—was— is my best friend. How many times do you think we've braided each other's hair? Are you really going to sit here, after we... after what we shared, and be  _jealous_  over your son?"

Thranduil relaxes.

"Sorry," he apologizes sheepishly. "It's just, you know he fancies you?"

"I am aware."

"I never thought… what do you think Legolas will say about us?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead," Tauriel shrugs.

She sets the brush down on the bed, and scoots forward to sit beside him.

"I want you to know," she begins, taking his hand, "that I'm not expecting anything. I know how unheard of a relationship like ours is. I don't want you to feel obligated to me."

"Tauriel, you are all I want. I will not turn away simply because our being together goes against tradition. In case you haven't noticed, I've been throwing many traditions away for you. What is one more?"

"You are all I want, as well," she assures him. "I just wanted to make it clear, that considering all the kingdom has endured as of late, I understand if you would like our private matters to remain… private. At least for now."

"I think we have much to discuss," he tells her softly.

"Yes, we do, but you have a wedding to attend, and if you don't hurry you'll be late."

Almost on cue, someone knocks on the door, and Tauriel tenses.

She hides out of sight in the bathroom while Thranduil goes to answer it.

"You can come out," he calls after a moment, and Tauriel returns to the bedroom to find Arodeth waiting for her.

Tauriel rushes over and flings her arms around her maid, and Arodeth eagerly returns the gesture.

"I'm so glad you're alright!" she gushes.

"And I'm so happy to see you!" Tauriel smiles.

"I thought you might enjoy some company while you wait," Thranduil says from by the door.

"While I wait?" Tauriel asks, breaking the hug.

"Yes. I don't want you to leave this room until Neleth has been dealt with."

"But—"

"No," he orders, interrupting. "I will not risk you being harmed again."

His gaze is so intense that for a moment, they both forget they are not alone.

Arodeth gives a tiny cough, and Tauriel and Thranduil both look away, flushed.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, and before she can object, he's gone.

Tauriel glares at the door.

"Arse," she mumbles under her breath.

When she turns back to Arodeth, the maid is giving her a very strange look. She glances from Tauriel, to the door, to the overlarge dressing gown Tauriel is wearing.

Suddenly, Arodeth's eyes go wide and she points at Tauriel's chest.

When Tauriel looks where she's pointing she sees a distinct red mark from her earlier time with Thranduil and blushes a deep scarlet.

"You, and… and," Arodeth stutters, pointing from Tauriel to the chamber door, "and the king?"

Tauriel doesn't reply, but that must be answer enough, because suddenly Arodeth is laughing.

" _Finally!_ " she exclaims, clapping her hands together. "It took you bloody long enough."

Tauriel rolls her eyes, but can't fight the smirk tugging at her lips.

"Later," she promises Arodeth.

She drops the dressing gown she's wearing, and scrambles to find something to wear.

"What are you doing?" Arodeth asks.

"I have a wedding to crash."

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Coming Soon to an Update Near You: Karma!

As always, I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts!!


	25. Traitors and Lace

"What do you mean you have a wedding to crash?" Arodeth demands. "I thought the King was rather clear on you staying here."

Tauriel laughs.

"Do you know me at all?"

"You can't have built your strength back yet! You were captive for days. You should be in bed."

"It's not as if I'm charging into battle," Tauriel argues. "It's just a party."

"I can't stop you, can I?"

"Not a chance."

Arodeth sighs tiredly and stoops to pick up a bundle of clothing off the floor; she must have dropped it when she threw her arms around Tauriel during their reunion.

"Here," she offers. "These are yours."

"Thank you," Tauriel beams, taking the clothes.

She dresses quickly and peeks outside in the hall to see if any guards are around. When she's certain the coast is clear she slips out, Arodeth close on her heel.

"I've got it from here," Tauriel insists.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. You don't even have your weapons."

Rolling her eyes, but not arguing, Tauriel continues on, heading for the main hall.

"No, not _that_ way," Arodeth whispers.

She grabs Tauriel's arm as she is about to turn down the hall towards the main entrance.

"After all the rumors Lord Haewon has spread about you and the King, do you really think it the best idea to burst in the main entrance during the middle of the King's wedding ceremony? Follow me."

Conceding that Arodeth makes a fair point, Tauriel does as instructed and follows her maid.

Arodeth leads her through a series of halls she's never seen before, emerging into a bustling kitchen.

Cooks and servers are too busy preparing food and loading serving platters to pay them any attention, and the pair slip by virtually unnoticed. They go through another small hallway, this one emerging into the main hall.

Their entrance is near the head of the room, but it is in one of the few shadowed areas to give the illusion of servants just _appearing_ when needed.

Tauriel's mouth goes dry as she sees what lies ahead of them.

Just ten feet away, under an altar of red and gold silks Thranduil and Neleth stand hand in hand.

Ready to tear the councilwoman limb from limb, Tauriel lurches forward, but Arodeth tackles her, almost sending them both flying to the floor.

"Let me go," Tauriel growls quietly, regaining her balance.

"You can't!" Arodeth begs, her voice no more than desperate whisper. "King Thranduil made it clear he had a plan, if you run out there you could ruin it!"

Still unsure what _her_ plan is Tauriel struggles feebly, falling instantly still when she hears Lord Elrond speak.

"Do you both consent to this binding of your eternal lives?"

"I do," Lady Neleth simpers.

"I… do not," Thranduil states loudly, after a dramatic pause.

The shocked gasps from the audience are nothing compared to the shock and rage on Neleth's face.

"Y—you… H—how dare… _we had a deal!"_ she sputters. "She will die for this!"

Neleth's last words are spoken so quietly that no one from the audience can hear her.

Pushing Arodeth's limp arms away (her maid seems to have gone into shock) Tauriel steps out of the shadows just enough for Neleth to catch sight of her.

"Sorry to disappoint you, councilwoman," Tauriel says coolly.

Neleth turns a ghostly white and falls silent.

Thranduil glances over at Tauriel and shoots her a " _what the hell are you doing"_ look, and she retreats into the shadows once more.

X

_Of course she came,_ he thinks. _At least no one else saw her._

Forcing himself back to the task at hand, Thranduil takes hold of Neleth's arm and shoves her forward, forcing her to kneel before the audience.

"This woman," he says loudly, his voice echoing back off of the stone walls, "is a traitor of the worst kind."

Whispers ripple through the cloud, but most are rapt, waiting for an explanation.

"Councilwoman Neleth, has been using her position to try to disrupt my rule, make me vulnerable, and to further her own agenda," Thranduil condemns. "Right now, just a few days journey from our gates, is a camp. A camp filled with a small army of Orcs, all under the control of Lady Neleth."

Voices soar as people try to grasp what they're being told.

" _Councilwoman Neleth?"_

" _An army of Orcs? Under the control of an Elf?"_

" _Making deals with the worst of our enemies?"_

"This is not the only extent of her crimes," he continues louder, drawing focus back to himself. "Lady Neleth also persuaded members of our Guard to attack another member as means of distraction from her true goals!"

" _Traitor."_

" _Traitor."_

People whisper, testing the word as if it burns their tongues.

"In addition, she also planned an attack and the capture of three of our senior guard members! One of whom died during captivity. Councilwoman Neleth then attempted to use the capture of my Guard members to blackmail me into this wedding."

" _Traitor! Traitor!"_

The chant is more sure now, finding a steady beat.

"Captain Dagon?" Thranduil requests, nodding towards his most senior Guard member, who is now standing just feet away from the altar.

There is anger and betrayal on his face, and Thranduil knows he can trust him.

"Take her away," he says.

As Dagon approaches, Thranduil leans in to speak with only him.

"No one but myself or Lord Elrond is allowed near her. I mean it," he insists quietly. "Just you on guard at the moment, until I find others I trust. Take her to the guest wing, and disregard what I'm about to say."

Dagon nods and grabs Neleth's other arm, wrenching her to her feet.

"Move, traitor," he tells her seethingly.

"I want her in the deepest, darkest dungeon we have!" Thranduil commands loudly, so everyone in the room can hear.

He watches as Neleth is led back up the isle she so recently walked down, all eyes once again devoted to her; only this time instead of awe it is fury etched on the faces of those looking on.

Thranduil turns and offers a small bow to Elrond.

"Thank you for your assistance, my dear friend."

"I'm glad I could help," Elrond responds. "I trust you were able to accomplish all you needed to?"

"I was, but now there is more work to be done."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Actually, there may be. Would you permit me to borrow a few of your guard members for the evening? I need some I know are out of Neleth's grasp."

"Of course."

"Thank you," Thranduil insists. "Send them down to the dungeons. I will meet them there with instructions."

With that he takes his leave, disappearing into the shadows where Tauriel and Arodeth wait.

"What are you doing?" he asks. "I told you not to come, that I have this handled."

"I know, but I was worried about you!" Tauriel tells him. "I thought I might be able to help."

"You wish to help? Stay where I know you're safe. That's how you can—" he trails off. "There may be a way you can help."

"Anything!" she insists.

X

When Tauriel said "anything", this isn't exactly what she had in mind.

"You look so very lovely," Arodeth coos as she laces up the back of Tauriel's gown.

Thranduil decided the best way she can 'help' is to play bait. He intends to lock Tauriel away in the deepest darkest dungeon, where he announced to the kingdom Neleth would be, and have Tauriel masquerade as the councilwoman. Then perhaps Neleth's associates within the kingdom will attempt to free her and in the process reveal themselves.

"I still don't understand why this is necessary. Surely by the time they reach the cell, what I'm wearing won't be important," Tauriel huffs.

"It's all part of the illusion."

Tauriel stares glumly at the wall in front of her as Arodeth finishes securing her into Neleth's wedding dress.

It's a flowing white gown, bedecked in shimmering golden lace, and hemmed in jewels. It is probably the most extravagant thing she has ever worn.

Tauriel has never been one to fantasize about the day she would get married, in fact she never really gave the idea of marriage a second thought, she has always been far too busy working her way up the guard, but she is positive that had she ever pictured herself in a wedding gown it would not have belonged to someone else.

"If you step out of the shadows your hair will give you away," Arodeth sighs, "but you will do nicely."

The maid walks a slow circle around her, inspecting everything.

They are in Thranduil's chambers, at his insistence, preparing.

"I feel ridiculous," Tauriel complains.

Someone knocks abruptly on the door and lets themselves in.

"How are th—?" Thranduil's question dies on his tongue as he catches sight of Tauriel.

He blinks rapidly as if to be sure of what he's seeing.

"I'll, uh, just pop out, shall I?" Arodeth offers, slipping out behind where Thranduil stands frozen, and closing the door behind her.

Tauriel doesn't feel ridiculous anymore. She does feel something else flaring to life in her belly at the way his heated gaze rakes over her.

She knows then that she will never marry. No one else will ever look at her in a wedding gown the way her King does, and she will never ask such a thing of him.

"You… are stunning," he says softly, crossing the room to her.

Her cheeks flush.

Thranduil's hands come out to rest on her hips, pulling her closer until she is flush against his chest. He bows his head and she leans up on tiptoes, her lips seeking his out instinctually.

Need sears between them as their lips meet, but Tauriel pulls away almost instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asks, trying to pull her back, but failing as she steps out of his grasp completely.

"Don't," she pleads. "Not like this. Not while I wear the clothing of the one you were betrothed to."

"That was a sham."

"I know, but… I just… not like this," she repeats.

She doesn't want to admit the need coming to life in her, not the primal one he knows all to well of, but a new tiny blossom of longing for a life they cannot have.

"You need to lock me up," she reminds him. "We have no idea when, or if, someone is going to attempt to free Neleth."

Thranduil sighs heavily, but nods.

"Of course, you're right. My clever Captain, always keeping her King in check," he says playfully, reaching for her hand.

Tauriel allows him to take it, and Thranduil brings her fingers to his lips and plants feather light kisses along her knuckles.

They are very cautious on their way down to the dungeons, being sure not to be seen.

Thranduil unlocks the door to the cell at very furthest point down in his dungeons; it's the smallest and darkest one in the castle.

"Are you sure you are all right with this?" he asks.

"I told you, yes."

"Do you have something to protect yourself with?"

Tauriel sighs and hikes up her gown, revealing a long expanse of leg, and a dagger secured to her thigh with a garter.

With a sly smirk, Thranduil steps out of the dingy cell and pulls the bars closed with a loud _clang!_

"Be safe," he says.

"And you as well."

With that, Thranduil leaves Tauriel to her prison.

It's extremely dark. There is one torch burning slightly down the hall from her cell, but it casts only the smallest sliver of light into chamber.

Knowing it is going to be a long night, Tauriel settles herself in the corner farthest from the bars, wishing to keep her face hidden for as long as possible.

Time passes slowly, and boredom threatens to overtake her.

Tauriel wonders how Grond is doing and plans to go see him as soon as all of this is over. She hopes he doesn't have any permanent damage.

She also decides that she would like to further her knowledge of healing. She may know the basics of field treatment, but Grond's injuries were almost beyond her. Tauriel doesn't want anything like that to happen again. She wants to be prepared for everything.

The darkness and the last few days start to weigh on her, and Tauriel finds herself unable to stop from drifting in and out of sleep.

The first sign that someone has come for her is the soft footsteps echoing quietly down the hallway outside of her cell, pulling her from her fretful sleep.

She sees torchlight flickering off the stones and leans further into her corner.

When the light falls through bars it illuminates very little of her prison, and she's pleased to see the light only reaches as far as her lap. When she looks up at the person waiting outside the cell, Tauriel feels she must be mistaken.

"Nimmon?" she asks, keeping her voice a whisper.

"Yes, my lady," the short elf replies. "I came as soon as I could. We must get you out of here!"

Nimmon, Thranduil's aide, looks around nervously.

"Where are the others?" she presses, sticking to the shadows and speaking in whispers, hoping it will help conceal her identity.

"Others?" he questions, sounding surprised. "It's just me. There was no way for me to get Erwarth or any of the Orcs into the kingdom. Please, Lady Neleth, we must go. We haven't much time!"

Nimmon fumbles with a large ring of keys, flipping through to find the right one.

"How did you get past the guards?"

"I've been watching them for a while, learning when they take breaks or changes shifts," he replies.

He finds the right key and slips it into the lock.

Tauriel very carefully snakes her hand under her gown and removes her dagger.

The cell door swings open with a loud creak, and Nimmon steps in to offer her a hand.

She takes it and allows him to help her to her feet.

When Tauriel stands the torchlight encompasses her, revealing her identity.

Nimmon attempts to pull away with a gasp but she pulls him back towards her and places her blade to his throat.

"You're coming with me," she explains.

X

Thranduil is in his council chambers, sitting with Lord Elrond as they wait for news of Neleth's 'attempted escape'. It's well into the late hours of the following morning before any comes.

There is a knock on the door before it swings open to reveal Nimmon and two of Lord Elrond's guards.

Thranduil sighs and is about to shoo them away when Tauriel follows them, still looking a vision in her borrowed wedding gown.

His breath catches in his throat and heart speeds up at the sight of her.

It takes a pointed cough from Elrond to remind Thranduil of himself.

"What is going on?" he asks.

"I have brought you the traitor's accomplice, my King," Tauriel says formally, nodding towards Nimmon.

Thranduil is confused.

"You?" he asks Nimmon, who stares steadfastly at the ground. "Who else?"

"I do not believe there is anyone else," Tauriel replies. "I questioned him when he believed me to be the ex-councilwoman, and he seemed confused. I think he is the only other inside the palace working with Neleth."

Thranduil considers this.

He had expected to find out of a network of spies, but thinking of it now, this seems much more likely. It had seemed preposterous that Neleth would be able to sway so many not only to betray their king, but to ally with Orcs.

Nimmon however was perfectly placed to assist her. He had access to all of Thranduil's mail, all of his meetings, and had easy access to sending and receiving messages from outside the kingdom.

"Take him away," he orders. "Back to the dungeons. I'll send Captain Dagon to interrogate him later."

Nimmon refuses to speak as he is led away, shaking, never once looking up from the ground.

"Thank you, Captain Tauriel, for all of your assistance. That is all I will be needing at the moment," Thranduil tells her, feeling a pang at the required formality.

"Of course, my King," she replies, giving him a bow before exiting his chambers.

"So she is the one?" Elrond asks sounding amused.

Thranduil faces his old friend to find a small smile on his wise face.

"The one what?"

"The one Arwen swears you are in love with."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I cannot apologize enough for the long absence. I just hope you are all still with me! Thank you for sticking with this story!


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